Dragon Tears
by 570l3Nxh34r7
Summary: Hermione Granger, by way of a horrible accident, is now better than pure. She's HALF DRAGON. What happens when she discovers that her fate is the key to her best friend's destruction? HPHG HGDR, M for violence and explicit content. pre HBP
1. Seats, Apologies, and Mandrake Roots

**Yea this is my first Fanfic so its gonna be pretty crappy… if you don't get it just follow along. Things will get a LOT more intense in the future chapters. I'm really not sure how long this should be. Any ideas?! **

**Disclaimers : **Harry Potter and the other characters do not belong to me. The belong to the revered J.K. Rowling, who makes a couple million times more money than I do  The plot line is mine, unless you count the parts it overlaps J.K. Rowling's plotline.

"Today you are making the Mandrake Draught. Who can tell me what the Mandrake Draught does?"

I'm Hermione Granger, and as of the moment, I'm in Potions. Professor Snape is teaching us how to make the Mandrake Draught to prepare us for our NEWTs. Wait… he just asked a question! Three guesses what I'm going to do.

My hand shot into the air, followed closely by Harry's, Malfoy's, and after a while, Neville's.

Professor Snape, deciding to pick on his second least favorite student, chose Neville.

"M-May I g-go to the H-Hospital Wing?" Neville stuttered out of nervousness, holding a hand to his slightly bruised jaw. "H-Hermione's g-g-gone and p-punched me ag-gain."

Oops. I guess I accidentally smacked him in the face while trying to raise my hand the fastest. Heh.. heh..

"5 points off Gryffindor for inter-house violence." Snape said smugly.

I seethed. The nerve of that slimy git! How could he stake off house points when some poor kid is overexcited?! Especially if that poor kid is me?

"Also, since this has been happening for the past month, I'm going to seat Ms. Granger next to people who will not mind hitting her back when she hits them first. Parkinson, switch places with Granger." Snape sneered at me, daring me to defy him.

"But… but you can't!" I cried. Malfoy and his posse sniggered.

"Do not tell me what I can or cannot do, Ms. Granger. Further procrastination of my instructions will result in house points being deducted." Snape snapped.

In my mind, I cocked a bazooka, which is a muggle weapon similar to a cannon, and blasted Snape's head off. Gumbling, I picked up my bag and stormed over to my new seat. However, I was glad to see Pansy curse when she saw who she had to sit next to. It was my turn to snigger.

"Lets see how long Longbottom lasts without Ms. Granger whispering the answers in his ear." Snape gloated, and Neville whimpered. "Now tell me, Longbottom, when are Mandrakes ready for cutting and stewing?"

Neville gulped. I imagined the gears in his head turning as they dug up information from Professor Sprout's herbology classes. Too bad he wasn't there when Dumbledore said they'd be ready when their acne had cleared. My hand floated up uncertainly.

"Hand down, mudblood." Malfoy snatched my arm and attempted to force it down. " You're going to make him even more nervous."

I dropped my arm into my lap and stared. Malfoy? Being… dare I say it… nice?

"After all, we don't want Squib barf all over the dungeon floor." Malfoy added, sneering.

I froze. "Draco bloody Malfoy, you heartless git!" I nearly screamed, but I held my tongue. I figured that because I sat next to Malfoy and his fan club, I should be on his good side. Just in case. Grudgingly, I managed to chuckle depreciatingly. Malfoy's leer widened.

"Well, well, well." He smirked. "The mudblood's finally grown a sense of humor."

For lack of a better comeback, I imitated Malfoy's classic snarl to his face. "The ferret's finally grown a backbone."

"Look, kids! She's even learned to scowl! This filthy little witch may have some hope after all."

Pansy Parkinson looked stricken that her place was being taken. By me! I sneaked a glance. She was glaring daggers at me, and she was so furious that she was shaking. Or it might because Neville had moved from fright to hysteria, and was trying to use Pansy as a shield. I smiled sweetly and waved. She gave me the finger.

"Well, what's your answer?" Snape swept between us and blocked my double fingers up from Pansy's view.

"Mandrakes are harvested when they are mature, after their acne has cleared." Neville craned his neck to glance past Snape, at me. I nodded my head slightly. He relaxed, sending out a _woosh_ of held in breath.

Snape looked disappointed that he couldn't' find anything wrong with Neville's answer. He snapped, "Instructions are on the board. Make sure to read them carefully as I don't want any paralyzed people on the floor if the potion happens to explode." He casually let his eyes roam over to where Harry was sitting.

I carefully read the list of ingredients. Two pounds of Mandrake root, sliced thinly. Bold chalk letters proclaimed: NO THICKER THAN 1/3 OF A CM. Yet, there sat Malfoy, sawing his Mandrake Roots into clumsy, uneven pieces.

I don't know why I cared, but I certainly didn't want his foul potion blowing up in my face, so I grabbed his wrist and snarled in his face, "1/3 of a CM, pure trash."

Malfoy looked taken aback. Obviously, no one had ever stood up to him before. So much for staying on his good side. That thought dawned on me once he shed his abashed look and acquired a more murderous one. His voice dripped with sarcasm when he said, " Well, Muggle dirt, if you're so smart, you do it."

I remembered with a pang that that was what Ron had said to me in our very first charms lesson, when we were learning the floatation spell. I looked at Harry and Ron, a few desks away. They both sat, seemingly deeply immersed in slicing their roots into exactly equal pieces, carefully avoiding my eye. I sighed, and turned back to my work.

The pile of Mandrake roots on my table had grown twice as big. "What gives?" I complained to no one in particular.

"You wanted exactly equal slices. So you do it." Malfoy's lazy drawl came from somewhere behind me.

Wide eyed, I looked up at Professor Snape, wondering if that was permittable. He was almost laughing, and mouthed at me, "Better start cutting." I seethed, snatching Malfoy's mutilated roots, and charmed his knife to hack the roots in relatively equal slices. Malfoy smiled, raising his eyebrows.

"10 points off Gryffindor, for Ms. Granger's absentminded usage of magic in the classroom." Snape had glided behind me and was watching the knife fix Malfoy's Mandrake roots. I jumped. The knife fell to the floor and started stabbing at people's feet.

"Well, Ms. Granger, aren't you going to stop it?"

Oh no. let the knife amputate people's toes, or stop its nad risk loosing house points? I watched impassively as the knife took a wild dive at Parvati's knees. She shrieked, jumping out of the desk, but sill getting cut by the gleaming blade. Parvati clutched her leg, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood leaking through her fingers. Malfoy and his cronies watched me with interested expressions on their faces when they noticed that I failed to do anything.

Finally, when the knife lunged at the Slytherins, I came to my senses. Leaping to my feet, I swished and snapped the wand back and forth, tracing the movements for my spell. "IMMOBULUS!" I cried. The knife froze, inches away from stabbing Draco in the face, and clattered noisily at his feet.

Malfoy stood there, a shocked look on his face.

"I'm sorry." I muttered.

"You…you… saved me." Malfoy stuttered shakily.

I laughed harshly. " If I hadn't charmed the knife, this wouldn't have happened."

I could feel Ron and Harry's disbelief and fury from five tables away. I could agree. Me, a "mudblood", apologizing.. to Malfoy? I never thought I'd live to see this day. And him, thanking me! The world must have ended.

Snape interrupted smoothly. "Back to your cauldrons and return to work. And, Granger, because you saved a student of my house, I will not take points off Gryffindor. This time."

I smiled, and went back to chopping my roots.

**For all you lovely people out there who actually read this, please R&R. I'm hitting a few roadblocks, so if u guys would like to help that'd be great. :-D 33**


	2. Scars, Threats, and Astronomy Towers

**Hello all! Thank you all who reviewed. It was very enlightening to receive your compliments. And corrections. Those are good too. ::shifty eyes::**

**Anyways, after this chapter there will be no updates for anther week or so, as my daily internet privileges have been taken away. stupid parents lOl blame THEM not ME!!! :runs from Malfoy: "I'm SORRY I ALMOST HAD TO STAB YOU … SORRYYY!!**

**Ok this is the next chapter… enjoy!**

After potions, I sat at my desk and cleared up the ingredients for my Mandrake Draught. My cauldron-full of perfect potion sat on the desk, its metallic green color swirling and shifting. Ron and Harry helped, talking to me about the day's events.

"Hey, 'Mione… why were you being nice to Malfoy?" Ron asked curiously.

"I just wanted to stay on his good side." I stated matter-of-factly.

Harry snorted. "Like he has one."

Speak of the devil. Malfoy walked up to us, looking uncomfortable.

"He should really go su…" Ron faltered when I coughed loudly.

Malfoy glared at Ron. "I'm just here to make one thing clear, Granger. Even though you saved my life and all, don't get any sweet Gryffindor ideas that we're friends or anything. However, I am in your debt, and Malfoys hate being in debt, especially to mudbloods. So I will be… reasonable," Malfoy grimaced, "to you and your wonder gang until said debt is repaid. After that, we go back to being mortal enemies. Understood?"

I stared at him. Twice in one day, Malfoy has managed to astound me. I drawled, "And I thought you were here to talk about something important. Whatever."

Malfoy wheeled around and stalked out of the dungeon.

Harry and Ron looked at his retreating back, eyebrows up and mouths wide open.

I laughed. "Good side, indeed."

For the rest of the week, I kept tab of what Malfoy was doing. Around others like Neville and Seamus, he was spiteful as usual. Then, once he saw me, it was like light coming over Hell. He would put on a smile (fake or not) and let everyone within ten miles radius know what an angel he was. However, he caused scenes to "solve". For example, on Tuesday, he had one of his cronies trip a Gryffindor first year. Then, he sauntered around the corner, "saw her" and helped her up. I, at first, was amazed, until I started being the victim. Crabbe and Goyle put me in various life threatening positions so Malfoy could come along and save me, and so, nullify the debt. I didn't think he meant for Pansy to levitate me 200 feet of the ground from the Astronomy tower, though.

It was a warm, sunny day, and it being Saturday, we had no classes. Harry and Ron were on the lawn, having a go at Malfoy, who was alone because Crabbe and Goyle had gotten detention. I was in the Astronomy Tower, borrowing Professor Vector's telescope for a diagram for Charms. I hadn't noticed anyone else in the room besides me. A model of the solar system that hung over the entrance to the tower twinkled for a moment, as it does every time someone opens or closes the door. I thought it was Professor Vector coming back from the lavatory and didn't make anything of it, until a pair of pale, cold hands grabbed me by the throat. I choked as the hands tightened around my neck.

"Who…. Are … you?" I struggled to breathe.

"You will pay for what you did in Potions." The familiar, snobby voice threatened maliciously.

I should have known. Pansy Parkinson, come to get revenge for me getting on Malfoy's good side.

"Why… don't you…" I gasped for air. "Let me… down… so we can talk… like women."

Pansy's hands loosened a bit as she pondered my question. I took that chance to spring away from her. She swore.

"Why are you here?" I asked, massaging my neck.

Pansy lifted the sleeve of her black robe. Along her arm was a six-inch scar, pearly and slightly raised.

I guess that knife was lethal after all. Raising my eyebrows, I reasoned, "You know, Madam Promfrey could have gotten rid of that in about a second."

Pansy attempted to look dignified. "I asked her not to remove it, just to remind you of the pain you have caused me. I mean, you brainwashed Drakie-poo into being nice to Hufflepuffs!"

Oh. So it WAS about "Drakie-poo" after all. I sighed, exasperated. "I saved his life, god dammit. He owes me."

"He does NOT!" Pansy shrieked. I think she has finally lost it. "He can't possibly be in debt to a repulsive, dirty little mudblood like you."

I've had it with this snotty, I'm-better-because-I-date-Draco-Malfoy bitch. I pulled out my wand and pointed it at her.

Pansy looked at me strangely, as if disbelieving that I would actually hex her. Muttering, she drew out her wand from the inside of her robes.

"Expelliarmous!" I shouted.

The spell bounced off Parkinson harmlessly, hitting a bookshelf and causing its contents to leap off the shelves and bounce off the walls. Bloody hell! She must have cast a shield charm on herself while she was taking her wand out. Bloody smart and wicked cunning. I won't underestimate her again.

I didn't notice Pansy swishing and flicking her wand. I didn't hear her whisper, "Wingardium Leviosa." I didn't realize the spell had hit me until I started floating.

Pansy guided me with her wand until I was hovering just past the stone wall of the tower. With nothing under me and only Parkinson's spell holding me up, I thought I was a goner. I was literally trapped between a rock and a hard place, the rock being the stone tower wall and the hard place being the distant, very solid looking ground. If I attempted to counteract Pansy's spell, I'd fall. If I tried to maneuver myself, Pansy would release her spell for sure. If I didn't do anything, I would still fall. It takes a lot of energy to hold something as heavy as a person in the air. I watched the color drain slowly from Pansy's face.

"Damn, you're bloody heavy. Ever think of loosing some weight?" Pansy panted, attaching a string of swear words under her breath.

I turned red. Feigning the famous Malfoy smirk, I snapped, "Being Hypocritical isn't good, Parkinson. Go blow someone, you fucking bitch."

Pansy scowled. At first she seemed shocked that I would use gutter language, just until I replied, "All Gryffindors aren't perfectly good. There's a bad seed in every person, waiting to sprout." After that, she recovered quickly and replied, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm slim and beautiful. At least I have people who want me to blow them. As for you, I can't say the same. People like talent to go with their looks, and it seems I've over estimated you in even that factor. I mean, you couldn't even block my floating spell. Pa-the-tic." She drew out every syllable of the last word, making it extra hard not to just send a jinx her way that'd make her get boils the size of Mars.

I glared at Pansy, hate coursing through my veins. I think, at that point, I would have liked to grind her into mincemeat and feed her to the sharks, then resurrect her and stick millions of little needles into her.

Maybe something in my glare set her off. Maybe she just wasn't strong enough. It happened too fast for me to comprehend. I only remember snatches of what happened. Pansy on the floor, clutching her arm where the scar from Malfoy's knife was. The scar, glowing silver, then blue, then pink. Her wand on the floor, the handle burnt off. And then…

Falling…. Falling…

The last thing I heard before closing my eyes to my dying world was a normally sarcastic and harsh turned shocked and scared voice, yelling, "GRANGER!!!"

**Ok wasn't that entertaining? Hermione... cussing! Well, after she punched Malfoy in book 3 I suppose anything is possible xP There's a lot more in store for lil Hermione Granger **

**Remember to R&R or face the wrath of my… imagination!  Rainbow  **

**And tonight's weather will be… a shower of falling Hermiones. **


	3. Death to Hermione?

**AHHHH ok sri I havent updated for so long…. But… while ur waiting for the chapter AFTER this (hint hint… Its VERRY important!) why not go read my other stories! **

**Death to the Darkness, a poemfic based on the Highwayman, DM/GW, What She REAlly Is,****a poemfic about Pansy, Nobody's Home, a songfic about Hermione postwar. **

**Anyways, on with the story. And there will be a list of thank yous for the reviewers. Afterwards. **

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**- **Draco's POV -

She was falling, from almost 20 stories up. Helplessly I watched her limp body descend. I hated myself for watching her pummel to her death. I hated myself for being scared for her. Mostly, I hated myself for not being able to save her. With a deadened look in my eyes, I turned away. I didn't want to see.

An image burst in front of my eyes. It was a girl with loose brown curls, her back turned to me. My breath caught in my throat as she slowly turned around. There was blood running down her face and tears trickling down her cheeks. "Draco…" the ghost-thing whispered. "Draco… why didn't you save me?"

I rubbed my eyes furiously. Granger's ghost, coming for revenge?

Hermione's ghost continued speaking. "Why? You could have. But you didn't. you owed me your life. Now, you will pay…" Her face turned dark and her brown eyes dimmed. "with your life."

I backed up, right into Potty. He was summoning things- a stretcher, a trampoline… I snorted. Like they'd be of any use.

Whirling around, I snatched my wand from my pocket. "Immobulous!"

Granger's body froze in midair, five feet from the ground. I took her arm and guided her down, slowly, into my arms. Her body was light, limp, as if the weight of her soul had already left her. Her eyes were closed, and a mass of messy frizzes covered her angelic seeming face. Hesitantly, I brought my hand up to her face and lifted her hair off her face. Her eyes stayed shut, and I could hear no breath, or it was so slight I couldn't make it out.

"is she ok?" Potter and the Weasel peered anxiously over my shoulder.

The trauma of the moment made us momentarily forget our differences. I gripped Granger's hand, willing her to open her eyes, to smile, and let us know that everything was alright. She didn't stir.

Sadly, I lifted her. "She won't wake."

Quickly, Potter brought over the stretcher. I laid Hermione's body on the white mattress, and turned around quickly. Weasel was in a state of shock, and Potter had… tears in his eyes?

I moved away. Ever since I was two, I had been taught not to feel. My father had told me that emotions were for weaklings, that love and hurt would eventually be Potter's undoing. He had whipped the love and compassion out of me, and I, in turn, locked the remainder of my emotions away. Hermione's death (after all, she had to be dead if she didn't wake) brought out the limited hurt and remorse in me. I walked away, wanting no one to see me in my powerless stage.

"Malfoy." Weasley had stood up. "We're not done yet."

Controlling my voice carefully, I muttered, "we're very much done."

I would suppose that Potter had grabbed his arm and shaken his head, because Weasel didn't push the matter. Too bad. I would have liked to crack his head in.

I might have left then, If Pansy hadn't run out of the double doors, yelling, "Draco! Wait up!"

I froze. I really didn't need Pansy attacking me right now.

"It wasn't my fault, Drakie." Pansy panted desperately as she reached where I stood and put a hand on my arm." She was too heavy. I couldn't hold her up."

What the hell is she talking about? Oh. Realization dawned on me. My eyes opened wide and I was mad. Horribly mad.

"You." I growled. "you killed Granger!"

I threw her arm off my shoulder and I continued walking away.

Pansy was shocked. "I…… killed Granger!" I bet she thought that I would be glad that she killed the mudblood, but she put two and two together. "I'm sorry!" she cried, throwing her arms around me.

"Get off me!" I snarled, turning around and shoving her hard. She flew backwards and fell on her arse, crying like a baby.

Too bad it felt really good to push her. She's been getting on my nerves for a while.

I was just about to enter the great oak doors when they were thrown open and Professor Dumbledore swept out. He stared at me over his half-moon glasses, his eyes twinkling good-naturedly. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, please join Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in the hospital wing."

I groaned. Just couldn't get enough of me, could they? I shuddered when I felt Pansy's cold fingers wrap around my wrist. I shook her off, stalking to the Hospital Wing. Humming contentedly, Professor Dumbledore strolled behind us.

I don't like the Hospital Wing. So quiet, so white, so pure. No, its not that I don't like it, it doesn't accept me. My darkness seemed to contaminate the light filling the room. I wanted out. My mood further dropped a notch as I saw Granger's body stretched out on one of the beds. Ass. Hopefully her parents don't know how to press charges. Unless they're pressing them on Pansy.

Dumbledore swept into the room behind me, and smiling lightly, conjured three chintzy armchairs, one of which he sank into. Potty and Weasel were already setteled down, still with scared looks on their faces. I wordlessly sat down, and looked away from their angry stares. Pansy sat down on my lap, but I pushed her off. She trepped into her armchair, and blushing slightly, curled up.

Dumbledore spoke. "I am sure you are wondering why I called you all here." I opened my mouth to speak. Dumbledore gently laid a finger on his lips, and I snapped my mouth closed, Rolling my eyes ever so slightly. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he continued. "our own Miss Granger possesses a very rare talent. One found in only three other people: Voldemort, myself, and one who does not wish to disclose his or her name. Hermione is a shadowstalker."

"A what?" Potty, Weasel, and Pansy chorused. I snorted. Gits. How could they not know what a shadowstalker is? But Granger? I thought that the shadowstalker trait was limited to purebloods.

"A shadowstalker is one who can at will, remove his or her soul- here named shadow- from his or her body. Normally, without correct training, the shadowstalker's soul would be locked out of her body, but under recent circumstance, that is yet to be revealed. The first separation, as it is called, is very difficult, and Miss Granger will not remember anything when she comes back. If she comes back. I delegate the task of teaching Hermione her past life, to Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again. "For a bit of inter-house unity." With that, he was out the door, leaving two very mad best friends, a hysterical Pansy Parkinson, and a very confused and disgusted Draco Malfoy alone.

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**How was that? I know I suck at cliffies, but w/e. D anyways, **

**If you can give me a link to the following story, I'll give you a preview to the upcoming chapter.**

**Hermione is forced to go to Diagon Alley a week early and she stays at a Hotel, where she meets Draco Malfoy…. And then something about him trying to piss her off as much as possible…**

**Yea. Its quite vague, but I'll give you a BIG preview if you got the right link. xD**

**And remember to REVIEW… the more clickies on the purple button, the faster I write. **

**Hehe….**

**And thank yous to the following for reviewing on this story: **

**Blaiselover, Merndasaysdownwithwormtail, sarahpuppylove, Eliot Z. Wheatherbee, The-Hidden-Me, xoxobrittanyxoxo13, Inuyashaluva245, courtney119, slysown28283, Dragongirl81, RelientKroxMySox721, and wounded-angel.**

**And thank yous for reviewers on What She Really Is: LazyLacy, blaiselover, and Eliot Z. Wheatherbee.**

**And thank yous for reviewers on Nobody's Home: Sm0gLuVer (I'll try humor in the future), vishanu (ur in luck… cuz Everlasting rain just happens to be a long, chapterful version of Nobody's Home), LazyLacy (unfortunately, there won't be a next chapter) Angelofsorrow, emmalookalike (I'm sorry u think it was so sad, but it's angst! Yea, I just wanted to try a new POV.) and blaiselover (thx for always reviewing. -D) **

**And REVIEW! x3**


	4. In the Depths of Her Mentality

**This is going to be a short chapter because I need it for the suspense. :) ohh, don't you all just love me? Also, this chapter is going to be a bit confusing. To break it down, the underlined is once voice, the italics is another voice, and the regular text is third person Hermione's perspective. The last voice will be bolded and underlined. It won't make sense at first, but you'll get used to it. I couldn't use quotes cuz that would mess up the effect. You'll see…. And the bold… it's just there.**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot line is mine. The characters are all from the genius that is J.K. Rowling.**

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** Everlasting Rain  
Chapter 4  
In the Depths of Her Mentality**

Wake up! Granger! Wake up!  
_Huh? Why is it so dark? Where am I?_

Granger! Hurry up! We don't have much time.

_Who is that?_

She was floating against the backdrop of a vortex of colors, swirling and mixing. No, she wasn't floating. Her body was no where to be seen. Rather, her soul was bobbing along a turquoise-gold blob. The colors seemed to part for her. With a gasp, she realized that she wasn't looking at some distant wall. The sickly colored goop (she didn't know what it was because her soul couldn't exactly reach out and feel it) was part of the air. She screamed, and with a choke, realized that no sound came from her throat.

**Never… never… never….**

The voice rang all around, and then faded.

_What the?_

As soon as she thought it, her voice- it had to be hers. No voice was quite so irritating to her- trilled the words out. Her words, they vibrated around the place, and then faded.

Good, Granger. You finally got it.

_Who are you?_

AS the words left her brain, she made a connection.

_No, _her brain mused, _it can't be._

Oh, the voice said, but it is.

When the voice faded, it took with it the colors, leaving the place momentarily black. Then, a huge picture appeared. Everywhere she turned, that picture was right in front of her face.

_Malfoy._

Yes.

_Why are you here?_

You played a very mean joke on me today.

_What? What are you talking about? _

Projecting your image in my mind. Brilliant. But how? How did you know I was a shadowstalker? How did you make the connection?

_I, _she gulped, picking her words carefully. _I felt your conscience, and I reached out and touched it. I felt so much fear and anger. I saw through your eyes. I saw… me. I guess it just came to me to envision myself as a ghost, haunting you. You saved me. _

Yes. I suppose I did. I really don't know why, though. Listen, we have less than two minutes. When you wake, you won't remember any of this. I have brought you into my conscience for a reason. Granger, do you see that vase?

_What v… _before she finished her sentence, a vase appeared next to her. She touched it tentatively, and shrieked as the vase leaped at her outstretched hand.

Don't touch it yet! When I count down to one, I want you to deposit some of your mind's essence into that vase. This will forge a connection between us so we can communicate at any time. 

_I…_ she hesitated.

Granger, now is not the time to doubt.

She felt trust in his mind. She somehow knew that it was a risk for him, also, to forge this connection. He would not betray her.

Three… two…

She had to decide. Now or never.

One.

She reached out a piece of her mind and grabbed the vase (A/N how she can do that will come in a later chapter). It hissed angrily, and turned to her. Only instinct kept her holding on.

**Those red eyes, so snakelike, red, glowing slits. That reptilian snout. That pale, pale skin. **

**What did you see last summer, Granger? What did you see in the Ministry Of Magic?** the vase taunted her, spinning spidery fingers around her tendril of thought. **You saw me. You saw Lord Voldemort, your greatest fear. You saw death. Now you will know me. Now, you will know DEATH.**

The vase raised her "wrist" up to its mouth and sand its basilisk fangs into it. Liquid squirted forth: bright, red, rich, thick blood splashed into the vase's waiting depths.

She felt a tremendous pull on the edge of her conscience and a tiny piece being torn off. All around her, projected like Draco's picture was, was a puzzle, shaped in a heart. She watched, in a trance, as a piece in the center of the golden heart floated away. She watched, as a silver piece replaced it. Then, she watched as the silver piece grew, bloating and pushing the other pieces of her heart away.

Then, with sickening satisfaction, she saw her heart exploding.

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**Ok you guys, I hope you like this chapter, because I worked REALLY hard to come up with this / I had a few roadblocks but they're all clear now… that wasn't really a cliffie, was it? LOl I hope you guys enjoyed that.**

**Thanks to winesjunkie, xxobriTtAnyxoxo13, Zappy Monkey, leftarrow, blaiselover, Hpfreakout, Mango-Burst13, and Drakulya for reviewing. You guys are the best. :)**


	5. Forgotten Fantasies and Schemes

**Yay! I'm FINALLY back on Sorry for being away for so long. Heh heh… eyes angry mob : As soon as I sort out my writers block and repost all my deleted stories (with edits.. yay!), this story will get right back on track. I'm also not sure whether I should start posting my blaise-ginny or wait until this story is sorted out and trouble free. Any suggestions?**

**Thanks to the regulars and the newcomers, who will be listed at the bottom of the chapter.**

**This chapter won't be too eventful, but it's quite important, and the end is a bit O.o, so bear with me this week. I promise next chapter will be better. **

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Chapter 5

Harry's POV

How could he? How could Professor Dumbledore do that to Hermione? He clearly knows that Malfoy won't teach Hermione anything about her past life. He'll probably change her into a Pansy Wannabe. Damn Inter-house Unity.

Involuntarily, I looked over at Malfoy. He was slumped on the armchair, and it looked like he was sleeping. Except he wasn't. Pansy was tugging on his arm and crying hysterically, begging him to wake. I smiled. It'd be nice if Malfoy had dropped dead, but then Dumbledore might just appoint a greater prat, like Millicent Bullstrode or Crabbe or something to teach Hermione. I stared, amused, as Pansy started giving Malfoy "CPR", which according to Pansy, amounted to frenzied kissing and karate chops along his chest, down to his "spot", and back up. My eyes widened as Pansy placed a well aimed chop right _there_. If that didn't kill Malfoy, that'd definitely kill the line of Malfoys for sure. I grimaced at the thought of Malfoy, having _kids._

Ron, however, was sitting in a corner, muttering to himself gloomily. He alternatively cast worried looks at Hermione and scathing looks at Malfoy, not that either of them noticed. I walked over and sat down next to him.

"I can't believe Dumbledore. Doesn't he know that Malfoy will destroy 'Mione?" Ron hissed vehemently.

I tried to come up with a good answer, and I failed miserably. "Perhaps he thought it was for the best," I responded lamely.

Ron's eyes nearly popped. "For the best? FOR THE BEST? How is it the best that 'Mione becomes an evil, boob-bobbing brat?"

I laughed, as I tried to imagine Hermione walking around, head held high and boobs jingling merrily. The image came easily, and immediately I feel sickened.

"If we can't trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?" I muttered.

Ron opened his mouth to retaliate, but before any sound left his mouth, Draco Malfoy crouched down next to us.

"So, what is the Fantastic Tr.. I mean Duo talking about today? How glad you are that you finally got rid of the Mudblood?" He said it almost conversationally.

Immediately, a wave of fury swept over me. "You… bastard." I growled, leaping up.

Uncharacteristically, Ron remained sitting. "Go suck slugs." He retorted, almost tiredly.

Malfoy was delighted. "Why, it seems that would perfectly describe YOU!"

Anger alighted in Ron's eyes. He snapped up his want and sent a stunner at Malfoy. Smirking casually, Malfoy flicked his wand and the spell dissolved. Ron turned pale.

Malfoy pointed his wand at Ron, and Ron and I tensed. "Taran…"

He never finished his spell. A shriek emitted from Hermione's bed, causing Malfoy to lose his cool and drop his wand.

Hermione was muttering wildly, her eyes shut tight. We caught snatches of her thoughts: " No… Voldemort… Live…. Tell… Can't…. Draco… Draco…"

Suddenly, she sat up. Eyes wide and blank, she caught sight of us and cried, "Who are you?"

Hermione's POV

_No… No… Voldemort cannot take me now. I have to live on. I have… I have to tell Ron I… Who's Ron? No… This can't be happening. No… Draco… I can't remember who Draco is!_

Suddenly, a picture burst in front of my eyes: a golden haired boy with cool grey eyes, scowling. _Why is he in my mind?_ I was scared. Tossing and turning, I found something solid under me. Immediately I sat up. "Who are you?"

The picture disappeared. I was in a room, filled with gold and silver light. Everything was white. White smudges on a gold and silver canvas. In my mind, I saw two dark blobs and a light one.

I tried to focus my eyes, except they didn't seem to want to listen to me. I rubbed them furiously. A little better. Suddenly, a face thrust itself into my field of vision. Clear, green eyes and unkempt black hair obscured my sight.

"Hermione?" The heart shaped lips opened and closed.

I don't know why, but I felt trust and security in those warm eyes. I wanted to reach out and touch his conscience. I wanted to know why there was so much pain and distress behind the mask of happiness.

I felt anger invade my mind. A voice in my head warned, "Do not dare to touch his conscience. He is not your friend. Trust me." I hesitated. The voice was familiar. Cruel, but the harsh tone had been drawn into his voice. He had a spark of goodness in him.

I was torn. Who? Finally, I withdrew the mind probe I had unconsciously sent out and retreated back into my own mind.

"Control your voice." The echoes in my conscience commanded.

I found my voice. Staring coolly into the (entrancing) green eyes, I mustered as much arrogance as I had and growled, "What do you want?" Pleasure came from the other conscience. The person… whoever he was, reached over and gave me a huge, warm hug. I wanted to bask in his attention, but disgust found its way into my mind.

Not looking at the boy in front of me, I pushed him away. Instantly, I felt hurt emanating from him. I needed him to go away, my thoughts told me. "I don't know you." I declared disdainfully.

Eyes wide open, the green-eyed boy stepped back. Thankfully, he let go of me. The green eyes misted, and the confused and angry boy ran out of the room. An equally stunned redhead glared at me fiercely, and then chased after him.

I don't know why, but then, my heart hurt, like I was sorry to see them go. My eyes stung and my cheeks flamed, like someone had just slapped me.

"Good job, Granger." The last boy stood up and walked towards me, applauding slowly, mockingly. A semi-pudgy girl looked with astonishment between me and him. She literally spluttered, "Draco… and Granger?"

The boy, Draco, snapped at the pudgy girl, "Pansy, go away."

The girl, Pansy, gave me another bewildered and angry look and tried to protest. "But Drakkie, what if she tries to jump you?"

Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Only you would do that. I can take care of her. Now, LEAVE." The last word sounded dangerous.

Pansy backed uncertainly from the room. Draco relaxed.

"Never know when she wants to jump on you, that one," he said almost sagely.

I lifted an eyebrow. Whatever.

Draco walked over and sat on the edge of my bed. Painstakingly, he scrutinized me. I looked away. Who was he? Why would he look at me like this, so gleefully, like I was a steak in a supermarket display?

"Do you know who you are?" Draco smirked.

I opened my mouth and tried to remember. I racked my memory. Who am I? I gulped. Then, I remembered what the green-eyed boy had told me. "Am I… Hermione?"

Draco's smile seemed to have slipped a little bit, or I might have just imagined it. His tone of voice, however, was definitely harsher when he said, "So? Who ARE you?"

I shook my head. I didn't know. Slowly, I admitted it.

Draco suddenly looked like he was going to go into hysterics. Presumably holding back chuckles, he declared, "You're Hermione Granger. You are a sixth year. You're of Slytherin House, and you hate Gryffindors like Potty and Weasel."

I nodded uncertainly. "Who are Potty and Weasel?"

"Those two boys who were in the room with us. Harry Potter, the green-eyed boy. He is really dense and very, very capricious. Don't go near him if you don't want an argument. Weasel, aka Ronald Weasley, is the redhead. He's even thicker, if that's possible, and he is mediocre at about everything. Remember, you HATE them."

I nodded again. Why don't I remember them then? If I hated them as much as Draco was saying, then I should at least remember them.

Speaking of which, I don't feel any hate either. Just a vast emptiness.

"Now, sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." The boy walked out of the room, laughing.

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**Well, I hope you more or less enjoyed that. Hermione's going to be evil! cackles. Or is she? Haha you'll have to read on to find out! 3 meanwhile, **

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**Thanks. : Thanks for all the reviews. I really enjoy reading all your comments, and here are my shoutouts. If you want to be in them, you've gotta review! )**

**Hellakat: well. I have to rush a bit in the action because right now I'm just setting up for the main conflict. If I don't rush it, the story will end up QUITE long, and I'm not sure anyone would like to read a 30+ chapter story about… well… darkness. Except me, maybe. : haha and I'm sorry about any grammar mistakes I made have made. I'm not great at grammar, and my word processor stupid. **

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	6. Selfish Intentions

**WHEEEE! I just had an AWESOME breakthrough my writers block for this story! I'm sooo proud of myself I could laugh hysterically. Muahahhaha. Anyways, I know that I said last chapter that I would be updating weekly, but then my mom got me an internship at the lab she works at, and I was busy (again). So therefore I was resolved to updating maybe once every two weeks or even less. gasp but now that I know EXACTLY where this story is going, I will try to update faster. Maybe once a week. Hehh… ok. Its not _that_ much better, but hey, I try. Anyways, this chapter will be a little lahdedah but it's a VERY important chapter. **

**I thank everyone who have been keeping with the story, and wish you all Happy Reading!**

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Chapter 6

(A/N this takes place after Draco seals the mental connection and before Hermione wakes up.)

Draco's POV

I startled awake after my stupor. _Shit_, I thought. _How long have I been in the Vortex?_ Glancing at the clock, I started. Shit shit shit! It had been over forty-five minutes since Dumbledore told me I was to take care of Granger!

Fuck.

I glared at the door. That damned old man! I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, forcing me to take care of Granger. _Granger_, of all people. Her mere mudblood essence would soil my reputation! Its one thing to have a mental connection with her, because then I can use her without anyone ever suspecting me of having a connection with her, but to be seen _together _with her in public! He has even "kindly" arranged a meeting with me this afternoon to discuss possible "accommodations" to meet her needs! What the bloody hell is he thinking? I don't even want to see her around let alone take _care_ of her. Goddam, he'll probably want me to teach her about what a goody-two-shoes she is and how important and dangerous playing around with the abilities of a ShadowStalker is. As if!

_Whack_. I stared at the one who so rudely karate-chopped my stomach. It was Pansy. _I should have known_. Shaking my head disbelievingly, I shoved her off. What are Potty and Weasel doing in the corner? I decided to intrude. After all, arriving uninvited into a very embarrassing situation is what Malfoys do best.

"If we can't trust Dumbledore, who _can _we trust?" Harry was saying. Ho hum, maybe the conversation wasn't so interesting after all. Oh well, I had already come this far.

I dropped down between Potty and Weasel, considering what tone to use. Scalding seemed too inviting, and a fight was never good with 2v1 odds even if it WAS the King Weasel and a scrawny white boy as opponents. Sympathetic? Father would be ashamed. "So, what's the Fantastic Tr… I mean, Duo talking about today? How glad you are that you finally got rid of the Mudblood?" Conversational seems safe.

"You… Bastard." Harry growled.

I suppressed a giggle. Malfoys don't giggle. His retort was so weak, almost asking for a beating. But wait, the King Weasel speaks.

"Go suck slugs," Weasley spewed, not bothering to stand as Potter had.

My eyebrows flew up. And I thought Weasel was the one who always fought. Interesting. However, that comment was the opening to a perfect retort. "Why, it seems that would perfectly describe _you!_"

Personally, I think that comment was pretty clever. Weasel didn't share my moment of brilliance, however. He tried to curse me! I smirked, and deflected his curse with a simple flick of my wand.

Dark Arts have their uses.

Especially for making freckled white boys pale with fright.

Well, why pass up a chance to curse the knickers off a Weasley? I pointed my wand at the lock of red hair brushing the Weasley's forehead. "Taran…"

A burst of pain exploded in my chest. My eyes widened with the shock and I dropped my wand. That was no ordinary heartburn; it was the side-effect of a serious malfunction in a connection.

Shit. If that means what I think it means, I'm screwed.

I hurredly turned away from Potty and Weasley. With the side-effect came a strange phenomenon: my eyes would change color briefly. I stared at the wall determinedly, knowing that my pupils were flashing, from gray to blue to green to brown. Granger lay, muttering in her bed about vases and Voldemort. I _looked_ at her.

Of course. The vase that she had seen was the **Jar of Sacrifice**, used to bond the minds of two shadowstalkers. The bonding process was painstaking and complicated, and only people who had exemplary mental ability were able to withstand the procedure. The Jar of Sacrifice was used to test the mental ability and also to forge the connection of the two people. Each person saw a different thing: his or her deepest fear and secret, reflected in the face of the vase. To give up a piece of their mind to the Jar was to demonstrate the mental capacity required in the procedure. Granger must have seen Voldemort reflected in the Jar. The pain I had felt must have been the tearing away of a piece of her conscience or the after-images (A/N these will be explained later).

Suddenly, Granger sat up and asked desperately, "Who are you?"

I doubt she could have said that of Voldemort, so the only legitimate choices were Potty, Weasel, or I. It was most likely I, because I had projected my image in her conscience once before, therefore it was likely to show again as an after-image.

I smirked. The connection was already working. I felt her struggle to understand the images placed before her, and in a vacant part of my brain, I saw the silver and gold smudges in her vision. I readied myself to speak to her, when suddenly, her mind contracted as a face stuck itself into her peripheral vision. "Hermione?" Potty asked. I grinned. Time to work my magic.

I pushed a sliver of anger into her brain. Such was my skill that I didn't even have to feel it! Obviously she shouldn't be exposed to the glee I was experiencing. I watched Granger closely. Her pupils dilated a bit and her grip on her mattress tightened. I smiled. _Bingo_. Feeling her mentality forming a probe, getting ready to touch Potter's conscience, I knew exactly what I had to do. Concealing my triumph carefully, I spat into her conscience. "Do not _dare_ to touch his conscience. He is not your friend. Trust me." I sent the last part with feigned care and sympathy. Her probe retreated after a bit of hesitation. I could have laughed, but I held it. Maniacal laughing would come later, in my dorm where no one would hear.

Granger struggled to speak. I thought about giving her a boost, then shrugged. _Why not?_ I thought. "Control your voice." I commanded into her conscience. I felt, through the connection, her contemplation of my words. I mentally shoved her forward.

"What do you want?" Granger growled.

I grinned. Phase one, complete. I didn't bother to hide my pleasure from Granger. She might as well think that I was proud of her.

Potty gave Granger a huge hug. I felt Granger's surprise and delight. Her getting too attached to Potty wouldn't be good for my purposes. I forced disgust into her brain, and felt her handing control to me. She pushed Potter away. "I don't know you." She declared. Potter stepped back and let go of Granger, then, after throwing a frantic look at Weasel, stumbled out of the room. Weasley shot a strange look at Granger, and followed Potter.

I stood up slowly, applauding her. "Good job, Granger." What? She deserved it. Granger lifted her eyes to me. They showed a scared girl, unsure of where she was or what she was doing.

Perfect. She was in my control.

"Draco… Granger…?" A girl simpered from the corner. I rolled my eyes. I had forgotten about Pansy after she had stopped doing "CPR" on me. "Go away, Pansy." I snapped.

"But Drakkie, What if she tries to jump you?" Merlin, that idiot. It was highly improbable that Pansy had even one brain cell.

I sighed, and explained in what I thought was a convincing tone of one speaking to a retarded child. "Only you would do that. I can take care of her. Now, leave." I added a malicious glare to the last two words. Pansy backed away from me and out the door.

I made a huge show of relaxing. Why shouldn't Granger think that I was at odds with Pansy? Pansy was, in fact, a cow, and Granger would do much more than replace her after I'm done. "Never know when she wants to jump on you, that one." I said wisely. It seemed like a good way to get on her side.

Granger raised her eyebrows in an uncannily good impression of me. Hmph. I do it better.

I spent my time walking slowly to her bedside and scrutinized her. Dumbledore gave me a job to care for her, to protect her, and to educate her. I would do so, with a bit of twisting on the intended effect. Perhaps this job wouldn't be so bad. Granger wasn't all that bad looking either, and perhaps, I would have some fun on the side. I mean, she is not really Granger any longer, so I wasn't derailing my status by associating with mudbloods. Therefore, it was ok for me to _do as I willed. _

I let my gray eyes draw her brown ones in, knowing that she would think that I was having "inappropriate" thoughts. She looked away. Well, as long as she wasn't looking, I might as well. My eyes drifted lower. Olive skin, straight nose, plump lips. I smirked inwardly. Lower: head held high, average length neck, bosom not quite big but not small either. Granger had looked back and seen my eyes, and with a gasp, drew her covers around her. Ever the goody-good; I should check whether she still had her old personality.

"Do you know who you are?" I asked.

She opened her mouth, and I felt her confusion at the edge of my brain. I felt her frantically thinking, digging, prowling. She didn't know, and she confirmed it with a whisper.

I could barely suppress my glee. "You're Hermione Granger. You're of Slytherin House, and you hate Gryffindors like Potter and Weasley." I could have quite a bit of fun with this.

She nodded slowly, and I felt comprehension in her brain. "Potter and Weasley?" she asked.

"Those two boys who were in the room with us." I explained.

She nodded, and I felt her struggling to remember them. Obviously, she failed. I smirked. It was off with me to my meeting with Dumbledore, where I would explain to him my arrangements for Granger, how I think that her transferring dorms would help her regain "a stable environment in which she can slowly regain her memory in peace." Then, tomorrow, would begin the best tormenting of Granger I've ever had in my life.

"Now, sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." Somehow, I knew that she would get used to it after long. I laughed freely as I sauntered from the room.

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**Well I hope you guys enjoyed that. It's basically just Draco's POV of the whole "reunion" scene and why he interfered. Obviously, for perfectly selfish reasons, but eventually his curse would rebound upon himself and oops. I shouldn't have said that. **

**Next chapter will be a bit dull also, considering when I plan on getting to the scandal and ect. Keep reading! You won't be let down. I promise I will make this story juicilicious. **

**Shoutouts to:**

**Halfdemongurl and Terry Moon. And the other people who read but did not review. ) **

**And remember to make my day and review! Faster the purple clicks, faster I write. (seriously.) **

**Much love to my readers. **

**F4ll3nxang3l**


	7. spiral burns and better than pure

**Whooo! I'm BACK! Four days… I think that's the fastest I've ever updated. gasp LOL. Anyways. This chapter has a little about Hermione's past, which I don't like to write about because it's a bit like rewriting her character, so there will not be much of that in this fic. So… ho hum. On with the story!**

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Chapter 7

Draco's POV

The trek from the Hospital Wing to Dumbledore's office was a long one. Thankfully, it was exercise that made up for Quidditch as the day's practice had been canceled. Unfortunately, the long walk gave me plenty of time to think.

_Why, indeed, did Dumbledore delegate the task of protecting Granger to me? He knows perfectly well that I could screw it up if I want. And probably will. Interhouse unity… pah! Any git in the hall knows a Gryffindor plus a Slytherin equals trouble, and they don't even need arithmetic to figure it out. He's so damn naive! Does he _really_ think that a day's mishaps and perhaps a few months of misconceptions can erase an inborn hatred of mudbloods in a Slytherin's heart? What are we, morons?_

_Granger. How the hell could she have gotten such a trait? I've never heard of a mudblood having a pureblood ability, never! Unless she was secretly pureblood (but I don't know why she would hide that; it's nothing to be ashamed of) I'm sure there's absolutely no way she can really be a ShadowStalker! Yet, I met her in the Vortex, created a bond with her, and plan on "toying" with her for the next month._

_I wonder, if Dumbledore really does agree to Granger's dormitories being moved to Slytherin dungeon, what would the other Slytherins say? That he was delusional? No one would ever know that I requested it, but what if they guess? What would they think of me? That I would stoop low enough to shag a Gryffindor?_

I stopped in my tracks. _I'm not going to shag her!_ I mentally reproved my brain. _Why the hell would I do that? I have plenty of Slytherin beauties kissing my feet without needing a Gryffindor sex-buddy. _There it was again. _NO! NO! NO! _I cried out inside my brain. _I'm NOT going to do ANYTHING with her other than INFURIATE her! _

I don't like thinking silently. My brain tends to over think a bit.

Without thinking (thank God), my feet had stopped themselves outside of Dumbledore's office. Looking up at the entrance, I saw two identical bronze griffins staring at me maliciously. A staircase opened between them.

I stepped onto the bottom staircase, and immediately, the griffins came to life. They seized me painfully about the shoulders and thrust me ten feet from the staircase.

"Password." They growled in unison.

No one ever gave me a password. No one ever told me that I even _needed_ one to get into Dumbledore's office. How the fuck am I supposed to know what it is?

"Uh… Chocolate éclairs?" I asked hopefully. The griffins didn't budge.

"Booger flavored Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans?" Nothing.

"House-elves?" Nope.

"Just fucking let me in!" I yelled. That didn't work either.

I gave up. Sitting opposite the staircase, I resigned to waiting.

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes passed

My head started to droop into my chest.

"Mr. Malfoy? What are you doing here?" A cold and deep voice woke me from my drowse.

"I'm waiting for the damned door to open, Professor Snape."

"You need a password, Draco."

"I know that."

"Well, shouldn't you be inside if you knew that?"

"I don't know the password."

"It's _Pink Lemonade_." The griffins jumped aside.

I rolled my eyes. "Figures."

"Then you should have known." Snape began to leave.

"Hey, wait!" I called after Snape.

"What?" He turned around, annoyed. I knew that it was only because I was Slytherin that he was bothering to listen and not taking the rest of my house points away.

"Is it possible for a mudbl-er... Muggleborn to have rare pureblood qualities?" He probably knew about the ShadowStalker thing already, but it _is_ a secret. I rolled my eyes internally. Merlin, I'm starting to sound like a pussy.

"Not very probable, but it can happen." Snape didn't seem surprised by my question. I guess he knew already, then.

"How?"

Snape looked annoyed again. "I suppose you haven't been paying much attention in lessons."

I honestly cannot remember ever having a lesson on this topic. "No," I replied, "I don't think so."

Snape muttered, "at least you're honest." Then said louder, "Dragon blood, Malfoy."

My eyes popped a bit. How in the world had Granger's parents managed to find _Dragon Blood_? It had a tag of a thousand Galleons an ounce. A hefty price, even for a Malfoy.

"You should pay attention in class." Snape reprimanded me, then left with an impressive swoosh of his cape-like cloak.

Still wondering, I muttered the password to the griffins and mounted the stairs. Thirty seconds later and once the staircase's automatic transport charm had terminated, I stood in front of a polished mahogany door, the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Raising my hand, I prepared to knock.

The door burst open before my knuckles touched wood. Blazing eyes glared at me fiercely before rough hands shoved me aside and Potter disappeared down the stairs. Weasley trailed after him, less angry but much paler. I scowled at being pushed, but smiled at Potty's fuming expression. Whatever news Dumbledore had for Potter, it couldn't have been good. Therefore, I should have no trouble whatsoever persuading Dumbledore to let Granger change dorms.

I strode in purposefully. Dumbledore was staring at the door sadly, holding his wand aloft. First I thought he was going to curse me, but he merely summoned a chair to his desk. Dropping his gaze, he motioned me to sit. I dropped into the overstuffed armchair.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley did not like my arrangements for Ms. Granger," He explained. As if any prat couldn't have figured it out on his own. I rolled my eyes, and my eyes landed on a shallow stone bowl on his desk. Its surface was covered in symbols, and a silvery substance- for I couldn't tell whether it was liquid, vapor, or solid- lay in its interior.

_A pensieve_, I realized, leaning forward with interest.

"Ahh, the pensieve." Dumbledore smiled lightly. "Much to my dismay, we will be using that today."

I quirked an eyebrow. To his dismay? He must be showing me something pretty important. I smirked and sat back. "I wanted to know what it is I'm here to talk about." I said with exaggerated politeness.

"First of all, my arrangements for Miss Granger. It is my wish that she be moved into your dormitory, into a room adjacent to the one which currently holds your own bed." Dumbledore smiled at me knowingly.

My jaw dropped open. I didn't even have to _ask_! Noticing my reflection (it looked a bit stupid… like Weasley) in one of the silver instruments on Dumbledore's desk, I hastily snapped my mouth closed. "Boys Dorm?" I croaked.

"Yes, the boys dorm. Unfortunately, since Miss Granger's memory is wiped and you most probably have told her that she is of Slytherin house, she will become a Slytherin temporarily. We will have new robes and class schedule assigned to her."

Gulping furiously (to ease any possibilities of maniacal laughter), I acquiesced silently with a terse nod of my head. Then, I asked, "What about the pensieve, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore looked sad again. "Today, Mr. Malfoy, I will be showing you a memory of great importance. It was of extreme difficulty that I had extracted this memory from Mr. Granger, as he had hidden it away and pretended that it did not exist. This memory is, I believe, confidential?" He looked at me sternly.

I nodded, a bit regretfully. "But what does this have to do with Granger?"

"This has every bit to do with Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, as you shall soon see." Dumbledore reached forward and grasped the stone bowl. He gave it a soft swirl and the contents seemed to melt together. A man rose from the bowl, like a shadow. He was wearing a white uniform and silly, thin rubber gloves smeared with red. He was yelling horribly, though I couldn't discern the words.

Dumbledore looked at me (I suppose, kindly). "After you, Mr. Malfoy."

At first I didn't know what he meant. Then, I realized that he wanted me to touch the silvery… thing and be sucked into the memory. I started to complain, but he gave me no other options. Sighing, I took a huge breath and plunged my head into the bowl.

* * *

I had a vague sensation of being sucked forward and falling into darkness. Well, the falling part wasn't quite vague, as the darkness pressed on my eyes until they were popping quite a bit. Next thing I knew, I was thrust into a bright room, not unlike the Hospital Wing, all clean and white-ish. It was filled with people in white uniforms and blue half-masks on their noses and mouths. Their blue-gloved hands were smeared with blood. And in the center, on a white bed, sat a small girl, who looked as if she was sleeping, but in her rest, she twitched uncomfortably. Her messy brown curls covered the pillow and were damp with sweat, sticking against her tiny forehead. She looked about six years old.

I stared questioningly at Dumbledore, who had arrived about two seconds after me.

"Those are doctors, Draco. Muggle Healers. When Miss Granger was five, she got a disease that required her to get a blood transfusion."

"Blood transfusion? Disease?"

"A blood transfusion is when a patient receives a healthy blood from a donor. The blood is screened for diseases and then dripped into the patient."

"What kind of disease?" I asked, feeling a bit nauseated.

"Sickle cell anemia." Dumbledore stated gravely. "Its when the shape of the blood cell goes from round, which is normal, to crescent shaped. This causes her to not be able to breathe in sufficient oxygen, and it increases the risk of clogging her veins."

I didn't really get it, but I nodded anyways. What matters is that Granger is… _diseased_ Ew.

I crept closer to the bed to look at the bag of blood swaying above Granger from a hanger. A tube connected the bag and a needle on her arm. The blood dripping into her arm was dark red, but when I cocked my head a bit to the right, it had a silvery sheen about it. I recalled what Snape had said to me while I was sitting outside of Dumbledore's office. So her parents hadn't bought it after all; it was an accidental contamination.

_But who?_ I mused silently. _Dragon blood contaminations of human blood is impossible. The only way it could possibly have happened was if someone had purposely mixed dragon blood into the human blood reservoirs. And if so, wouldn't there be a widespread pollution? Oh God. What if there is a whole multitude of muggles running around with _magic

I had walked back to my original position beside Dumbledore. He was surveying the scene almost cynically.

"Alas," Dumbledore sighed, "it was a cruel trick played by an unknown wizard, as we can only assume that wizards have access to dragon blood."

"What will it do to her?" I whispered. Not that I particularly care.

"Keep watching." Dumbledore instructed.

The memory seemed to skip, as if the original carrier of the memory had a lapse. There was now a crowd of masked- doctors, did Dumbledore say-, standing around Granger. She was fidgeting noticeably, her face red. A doctor removed a stick from her mouth; little numbers on it read 104.

Suddenly, the little girl's eyes popped open, not unlike the way Granger woke today in the Hospital Wing. A piercing scream reverberated around the room.

I stared at Granger. The blankets that were pulled around her were singed away, as was her clothes. Spiral burns covered her body, her skin melting away and dark blood oozing out. I blanched. I wouldn't have wished that on anyone, not even Granger.

Two minutes later, the burns had faded away, much to the confusion of the doctors. Another took a blood sample (I stared stonily when the doctor poked Granger with the needle. Stupid muggles and their primitive medicine) and ran out of the room. Five minutes later, he ran back in, huffing and puffing, the blue mask now around his neck.

Bewildered but triumphant, he gasped, "The sickle cell disease! It's… gone!"

Looking at Dumbledore, I whispered, "The healing effects of the dragon blood?"

Dumbledore nodded. "However," he added, "There are a few adverse effects that their tests will not be able to identify. One of those is the ShadowSeeker trait that you see today."

My eyes were wide, and I nodded slowly, unbelieving. Yet, here it was, laid out right in front of me.

Granger was half dragon.

* * *

Half an hour later, I walked back to Slytherin common room, my mind buzzing. I tried as hard as I could not to believe the inevitable: that Granger, common, mudblood, _bland_Granger was half dragon. That I, a pureblood Malfoy, was no longer even a match for Granger. I stalked into the Sytherin common room and froze. Shit. Granger was moved into this room, and to get into the Boy's Dorm, I was going to have to pass her room. What if she was still awake?

Oh screw it. I'm just going to walk past and if she notices me, I'll make a run for it.

I passed the door of her room. There was no ambush from inside. _Must resist the urge to look inside_, I told myself.

I didn't resist hard enough.

Granger's hair was spread on the pillow, like a halo on her head. She was shifting around uncomfortably, not unlike her six-year-old self in the memory. Seeing her filled me with an inexplicable sadness, something I've not felt often before. How could I hate someone who had such a horrible past? The main reason I hated muggleborns was that they had no right to magic. They never fought for the right to use it.

Yet Granger had fought. She had fought harder than anyone I know. So, could I still hate her?

I left the room quickly, and rebuked myself for thinking such rebellious thoughts.

Sinking into my bed, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

**Whooooo! How was that? Took me a week, but I finished!**

**Do you guys thing that the whole "non-hate" thing is going too fast? shrugs I don't want a really really long fic but I don't want people to get confused. Yeah. Lol**

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bluebaby3296, greatwite2, Malfoy-jacky, alicethecatdemon, Terry Moon, HermionetheSlytherinPrincess, and Drakulya for reviewing.**

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**I'll try to write more by next Friday. And then a two week lull cuz I'm going to CAMP! **

**Okay. **

**x3 you all. **


	8. Misconceptions and Doubts

**Wheee! I know… last time I said two days ;; but its been four months. I'm sooo sorry. Ever since school started, I've been super busy with homework and all that crap. (I'm in four honors classes! YIKES!) But since it's WINTER BREAK!111!one, I'm UPDATING! OOOO also, make sure to check the announcement at the bottom of the page.. It's VERY important (I won't say it now in case you guys forget)**

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**Chapter 8- Misconceptions and Doubts**

The next morning was airy and bright, a noticeable (and frustrating) contrast to a certain Slytherin's predominant mood. Noting the radiant sunshine bursting from the Great Hall's ceiling, Draco Malfoy groaned. Another fantastically abysmal day.

Earlier that morning, before (he had made sure) Granger had woken up, he had called a Slytherin assembly and spread the situation. No one, he had said, was allowed to harm or insult the mud… no… ex-mudblood. Understandably, quite a few people were confused and upset over this, including Pansy, but Draco was Draco and rules were rules. (He liked to think that as King of Slytherin, his word was law, and now that Granger was temporarily- he shuddered- the Queen of Slytherin, her word would soon be too) Thus, greetings were grudgingly aimed towards Granger (along with the use of her fearfully _Gryffindor_ name) and no one-thankfully-questioned her presence.

Suddenly, a spasm of whispers broke out across the hall. Granger had entered timidly, her coffee eyes wandering around the hall. Draco rolled his eyes. Apparently no one had told her where she would be sitting.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Potty getting up to call her over. _Warning… WARNING!_ His brain screamed. _Keep the facade!_ Forcing a smile onto his face, he rushed towards Granger, and grabbing her by the arm, steered her to Slytherin table.

This was, admittedly, the only thing he could have done. Ignoring Potty and Weasel's brutal glares, he plopped Granger down next to him and started piling things on her plate.

_What are you doing?_ His brain asked. _You were just supposed to get her over here, not become her nanny too_. Widening his eyes at his own actions, Draco snapped back to reality and shoved the plate towards Granger. _Eat. Act Natural. Do SOMETHING!_ His brain screamed. Draco grabbed the first thing he saw: a gigantic slice of omelet, and crammed it into his mouth. _So Weasel-like_, his mind taunted snidely. He mentally slapped himself. What was he doing, receiving abuse from a particularly disobedient conscience?

Granger must have noticed the mental abuse Draco was receiving from himself, because she reached over and tapped him on the head. "What's wrong?" She asked.

Draco swung around and found himself staring into a pair of auburn eyes, widened with worry. _What the…_ he thought, before realizing that she didn't know that she hated him. He forced his rebelling conscience to radiate contentment, and Granger's relief pulsated over him like the horrible sunshine, something unusual and alien. Shaking his head to rid himself of the nauseating sensation, Draco returned to his food.

Unbeknownst to him, Pansy sat nearby, her jealous eyes taking in what seemed to be a _budding love_. So, her shrewd (hey, who knew?) mind calculated.

Across the hall, Harry and Ginny and Ron spoke in livid whispers, their heads bowed together like Harry, Ron, and Hermione had some weeks earlier.

"Who gave him the right to boss her around like that?" Harry fumed.

"Dumbledore did, Harry." Ginny stated reasonably. She had heard the story last night when Harry and Ron had debated about Dumbledore's sanity.

"But look at them! Sitting together like that, all _lovey dovey_." Ron snapped. "Merlin, they could be plotting to burn down Hogwarts and all we would see is two kids sitting together, chatting."

The three of them turned to look at Malfoy and Hermione. Malfoy was attacking his food with unusual fervor, and Hermione was staring at him with, apparently, great concern.

"You and Hermione used to look like that," Ginny prodded Ron. "Except you were only interested in food and she just didn't want you choking before you successfully conjured a stretcher."

Ron flushed crimson. "You seem to be happy about these arrangements."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't want Hermione to embrace the 'dark side' but I think its good for her to be exposed to Malfoy in his full evil. Besides, if you guys can't eat it, we could always win her back."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Ginny, you're a genius! That's exactly what we have to do: make her remember us!"

Ron's expression clouded over as an unusually thoughtful look took over his face. "That's not a bad idea." He said slowly.

"Great. So it's settled, then. We're getting Hermione back." Ginny stated cheerfully, then climbed off the bench. She waved as she exited the hall, her mind clearly already devising. After a few sullen glances towards the Slytherin table, Ron followed with a "see you in Potions, Harry. I'm going to go pack up."

Leaving Harry Potter sitting there alone, glaring thoughtfully (yes, he can do that) at a certain 'pair' of Slytherins. "We're going to win her back," he reiterated, then whispered, "no matter what the cost."

Nobody had informed Snape of the conditions. Nasty and condescending as always, he slammed Granger over and over again, calling her an "overachieving prat" and "wannabe know-it-all with absolutely no true talent."

Draco groaned inwardly as he felt her crushed spirit jabbing into his conscience. Over and over, he tried to whisper, to warn Snape of the predilection, but being the abusive teacher he was, Snape was naturally too absorbed in taunting the "mudblood" to notice Draco's glares.

The abuse was getting to her, Draco could feel it. She messed up constantly, whether her amnesia had affected her text-book memory stocks or whether from nervousness, Draco couldn't tell. This only increased Snape's glee, as he slid smooth circles around Granger's desk, harassing her about every mistake.

By the end of the class, Granger had broken out in tears and raced from the class, chased by yells of "fifty points from Gryffindor!" Draco cringed. However, since she had already gone, he could do nothing but try and get Snape to understand.

When the bell rang, the class leaked out happily, but one blonde remained bent over his cauldron. Glancing up occasionally from the corners of his eyes, he determined not to lift his head until the Potions Master himself came over and asked him what his problem was.

"Mr. Malfoy. You must have something better to do than studying the interior of your cauldron so intimately." Snape glided over to Draco's desk.

"Professor, why did you pick on Granger like that today?"

Snape scoffed. "Normally I would have thought you would have been happy that she received such a thrashing."

Draco's head snapped up, his eyes full of seething anger. "You're going to ruin it all," he nearly screamed."

Snape's eyebrow quirked. "All what? I don't suppose you've been… lusting after the mudblood have you?"

Draco's hand darted forward and snagged the collar of Snape's robes. "I don't care if you're a Professor, but you're not calling her a mudblood. She's a fucking half-dragon, and she's in fucking Slytherin. So act like you like her and leave everything to me."

Snape stiffened. "Get your fingers off my robe, Mr. Malfoy, and please do not use such despicable language in my presence. Another word from you and you'll get detention for a month. Now, _out._"

Wrenching his fingers free, Draco stalked out of the room. He knew his "father-son" relationship with Snape wasn't exactly the healthiest of father-son relationships, but Snape would come around.

He had to.

Back in the Slytherin Common Room, Hermione Granger was sitting in front of a fire in a slightly lumpy armchair, tears dribbling down her cheeks.

"Why?" She whispered, watching the fire crackle, willing the golden prongs of the flame to be burnt into her mind, "why me? Out of the whole class, just me?" Her fingers toyed with a frayed tassel drooping from the throw that was crushed under her slender frame. _I thought he was the Slytherin Head. Isn't he supposed to favor me, like he fawns upon Draco?_

She frowned. Unwillingly, she saw the scene play back in her head, heard the scream of "Fifty points from Slytherin!" She frowned again.

_Why the hell would Snape take points from his own house? _She frantically tried to replay the memory in her mind, but to no avail.

Sometimes, when a person tries to remember something and puts all of her energy into trying to recall a specific detail about a dream, a thought, an event, the fine lines fade like aging pictures. The memory blurs like tear-obscured vision, and gradually slip away from outstretched arms.

Hermione pounded her own mind. She remembered Snape yelling "Slytherin," but whether that was a fragment of her imagination or reality confused by constant lapses of memory, she couldn't tell. The words melted together, and although she was pretty sure that Snape had said "Slytherin," her doubt was seeded and sprouted.

Shrugging, she snuggled deeper into the velvet throw, wondering why it mattered so much whether Snape had said "Slytherin" or "Gryffindor." She convinced herself that he had said Gryffindor; the punishment hadn't necessarily been directed at her. After all, Slytherins had potions with Gryffindor, and Snape could have just been yelling at Harry Potter again.

Harry Potter. Hermione's eyes filled with tears. _Why did that name fill her with so much longing, so much remorse?_ It made no sense to her whatsoever, that a guy she supposedly hated would have such a… nostalgic effect on her.

Her eyes were cemented to the hissing fire, its warmth holding her like a newborn child. The dungeons were cold, so very cold, but the fire calmed her and made the stone walls look less unfriendly, the slimy moss less unappealing. The fire brought her images of friends, laughing at antics pulled during lessons, of shameless flirting, of Gobstones and Wizards Chess and homework reviews.

Hermione Granger shook her head. What the hell was going on? Those images had nothing to do with her.

Glancing sadly at the hostile room around her, she closed her eyes and sank into the lumps of the armchair, relishing the last embers of the dying flame.

The images had nothing to do with her, and they never would.

**

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****OMG THAT TOOK SO LONGGGG! Haha okay. Since I'm so busy with school now, I can probably only update once a month tops. So don't be disappointed if I don't update for like two or three months even.**

**Well hope you liked it and remember,**

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**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm thinking of stopping all my other series until I'm done with this one. I have a lot of unposted stuff I'm dying to post, but I think I shall put it off till I finish this series, you know, just as extra motivation to keep writing. Of course, you guys are my main motivation reviewing does help xD .**

**X3, ME**


	9. Deceit to Kindness

Ahh I'm horrible, I knoww! I said one or two months but its been like half a year.. cries I'm soo soo sorry! begs everyone's forgiveness so I'll try to make this chapter as long as possible so everyone's happy with the drama and the whatnot.

**YAY! I hit 5000 views! YeaH! Only 74 reviews though. TTTT keep up the great work readers! XD keep those hits/reviews coming. I promise promise promise write faster.. TTTT if not you can flame me. Deal? eyes angry mob nervously**

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Chapter 9

Dusk drooped, silently and almost peacefully, orange and pink and gold. Draco returned from an angry stalk of the hallways and found Hermione twisting restlessly in front of a twitching flame. Worry mingled with confusion splashed across the room, hitting Draco more foully than the stench of the dungeons, bringing forth from him some weird feeling he wasn't sure he should have been experiencing. Sympathy, maybe worry creased his mind. _You're worried because of her doubt. Maybe she figured out she's a Gryffindor_. Without effect, his mind tried to convince him. He couldn't be compassionate for the… er… witch. No freaking way.

With a last weak crackle, the fire faded and the room descended into darkness. There was no moonlight down in the dungeons; no light from anything above ground level reached the dank depths of the Hogwarts Castle. Despite its insulation from the surrounding earth, the stones were cold and impersonal, the air, heavy with frigidity.

In her slumber, Hermione shivered. Involuntarily, Draco twitched at the distress that washed over his mind.

"Hermione," he whispered, shaking her softly. "Wake up. You're going to catch a cold."

_What the hell was that last part? Why would I give a damn whether she gets sick or not?_ Draco's mind resumed the rebelling it had taken on earlier in the day. He shook her harder.

Hermione didn't budge. Despite the slight grimace on her face and her furrowed brows, her slumber remained deep.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Draco did something completely against his nature: he scooped her off the tattered armchair and tugged her fingers free from the tassel. Then, moving with unexpected ease, he swept her (unromantically) up the stairs.

He never noticed when the worry became contentment and the distress became pleasure, but Hermione snuggled deeper into Draco's arms and an innocent smile crept onto her face.

* * *

Harry readjusted his glasses and scribbled another streak of ink onto a crumpled piece of parchment. Ron, Ginny, and he had a meeting briefly after dinner to discuss how they planned on forcing Draco to relinquish Hermione. He squinted through slightly foggy glasses – it was cold – and crossed out another line off the cluttered paper. 

It now read:

_Poison Draco Malfoy_

_Tell Hermione the truth_

_Feed Draco a love potion and make him fall in love with Moaning Myrtle_

_Confuse Crabbe and Goyle into clobbering Draco_

_Kidnap Hermione_

_Confess Harry's undying love for Hermione_

_Tell Hermione that Draco is a rapist_

The list went on from there and encompassed quite a few more colorful, painful, and rather appealing options. Sadly, Ginny had crossed them out on the grounds that they wanted Hermione back and not suspension.

Harry glared at the list. Although most of the more… interesting ones were contributed by Ron, Harry had thought a bit too long about the amiable expression Hermione had on when she was talking to Draco and began to see the attraction in beating Malfoy over the head repeatedly with a broom and subsequently shoving him into the Vanishing Cabinet.

That one had been crossed off by Ginny too. _As if her idea was any better_, Harry's mind seethed. His eyes drifted over Ginny's only input: "Confess Harry's Undying Love for Hermione." That hardly seemed like a solution than a more obvious reason for her to push him away.

Yawning and leaning back in his chair, Harry's eyes closed momentarily, and an image of Hermione flickered over his mind.

_I wonder what she's doing right now_, he ruminated sadly. A half naked Draco standing silhouetted over Hermione's terrified body floated subconsciously to the surface of his thoughts. _No, No, NO! _He shook the thoughts away. Looking outside, he noticed that the moon had already waned in the lightening sky.

_I should get some sleep_, he thought. Obviously, his distress was bothering him a bit too much. After all, Ron and Ginny had gone to sleep hours ago, leaving Harry to brood in his own misled thoughts. _A bit of sleep will clear my mind_, he decided firmly. Thank God the next day would be Saturday.

That night, Harry dreamt of rape.

* * *

Pansy didn't call herself multi-talented for nothing. She was beautiful (self-proclaimed), _and _intelligent (also self-proclaimed). That night, Pansy was also making a list. 

The focus was marginally dissimilar from that of Harry's, but if getting rid of Hermione meant getting Draco back, then what difference did it make?

Pansy read over her list once again.

_Poison Hermione Granger_

_Tell Hermione the truth_

_Feed Draco a love potion and make him fall in love with me_

_Confuse Harry and Ron into clobbering Hermione_

_Kidnap Hermione_

_Confess Harry's undying love for Hermione_

_Tell Hermione that Draco is a rapist_

Pansy bit her lip in what she thought was a pose of sultry agitation. The only ones crossed out were the ones that would make Draco mad. She already tried to kidnap Hermione once and it resulted in Draco's dissatisfaction, so there was no point in trying it again. Pansy's eyebrows knitted together. _Would Draco object to a love potion?_

She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. If it was a chance for Draco to love her like he did before, she was willing to give it a try.

Pansy sat there for a moment, ignoring perplexed Slytherins who stared at the 'meditating' girl. Suddenly, a stream of memories burst forth.

Memories of Draco and her, in second year, walking along the Great Lake together, holding hands and laughing. Memories of them waltzing to Chopin in Malfoy Manor summer before Third Year. Kissing during the Yule ball in Fourth. Him, shoving her when he found out she hooked up with Zabini. Her, cussing out a bloody Zabini for telling Draco. Her, disbelievingly touching her soaked face and puffy eyes in the mirror after her world had imploded. Waking up in the Hospital Wing with a fractured, sliced hand and four weeks of detention for smashing a mirror.

Her eyes snapped open. She didn't want to see. It was her fault. She knew it was.

But the fragile belief that love was invincible was hard to let go of.

* * *

Saturday's sun sprayed golden beams before it had even fully risen. At six in the morning, a full hour after Harry had stumbled into bed and fallen into the capture of sexual assault, bullying, and other things Hermione could have been subjected to, a pillar of sunlight blasted through the window and struck Harry in the face. 

In his stupor the hour before, he had forgotten to wrench the hangings of his four-poster shut, thus giving ample room for the sun to take good aim.

Muttering sadistically, Harry sat up out of the range of the sun, blinked uncomprehendingly at a puddle of sunshine on his lap, and tugged the hangings closed.

Minutes later, he was back in the hold of sexual assault, bullying, and other things Hermione could have been subjected to.

A small wedge of sunlight left by the roughly closed curtains glossed the boy's ruffled hair.

* * *

The dungeons were thankfully dark. No one in Slytherin house bothered to wake before 12 PM on Saturdays, so the entire dormitory was still except for the occasional rattle of a snore. The door to Hermione's room was shut tightly, and no sound or movement could be discerned from behind the stone door. 

The curtains to all the poster-beds were seamlessly sealed – after all, Slytherins liked their privacy- except for one, which was halfway open, tennis clad feet curling haphazardly out from where the body they belonged to had struck the bed.

It was eight in the morning, four full hours before any sensible Slytherin would wake.

The legs jerked. Draco Malfoy woke to the rhythmic breathing of a solid flesh wall beside him. Slightly put off by confusion and wondering where the hell the warm breath was coming from, Draco opened his eyes.

And stared into a tangle of brown curls.

_Hermione_, he moaned in his mind. _How did she get here, into _my _bed? _

He faintly recalled dragging her up the stairs into the boys' dormitory, and trying to open the door to her room.

_Right_, he remembered, _Dumbledore had enchanted it so that Hermione would be the only one who could lock and unlock it, and since she was knocked out, she couldn't have undone the lock. _

Since she was still asleep, it didn't look like she would be changing beds any time soon. Propping her against the door to her room seemed a bit inhumane, especially since she was supposed to be 'respected' at all times as the 'Queen of Slytherin.' Sighing melodramatically, Draco turned around, tugged on the covers, and attempted to go back to sleep.

The rumors spread like wildfire. Hermione Granger was found in Draco Malfoy's bed! Could they have… done it? Thanks to Pansy's hysterics, the whole school (with the exception of the teachers, because of course, everyone was careful in front of the teachers) knew about _them _before dinner even appeared on the tables in the Great Hall

Draco felt a vague annoyance at all the whispers, stares, and general jealously directed in Hermione's direction. Of all the people he got caught sleeping next to, it _had_ to be her. They never noticed when he and Pansy almost shagged, or if they did, they didn't say anything about it. But this; it must have been because she was a brainy, plain Gryffindor, and he was a tall, handsome, aristocratic, and rich Slytherin. They just didn't match. It was illogical, yet everyone seemed to believe it.

Even though the rumor was a slight wound to his pride, Draco didn't refute it.

He wanted to see Potty and Weasel's expressions first.

_

* * *

Die Draco Malfoy. Die you little Ferret. DIE. Harry's hands shook uncontrollably, and a lump of chicken dropped from an indignantly quivering fork and splattered onto the tablecloth. __How could he do that to _Hermione_? The purest and most selfless girl in the school has been contaminated by a… a… complete ASS! _Harry paused to let a few satisfying images of Malfoy being severely crippled, broken, and pulverized run through his head. Harry's hands shook uncontrollably, and a lump of chicken dropped from an indignantly quivering fork and splattered onto the tablecloth. HermioneHarry paused to let a few satisfying images of Malfoy being severely crippled, broken, and pulverized run through his head. 

Ginny looked over, a bewildered and slightly frightened expression on her face. "Harry, you ok?" She asked, "Why are you laughing like that?"

Harry smiled (well, grimaced) sweetly, settling on a mental image of Malfoy being lashed to a pole just within grasp of the Whomping Willow. "Nothing, Ginny. I'm fine."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and resumed staring at Hermione. _What was the point of starting this rumor_, she wondered. _Malfoy knows that everyone remembers Hermione was a Gryffindor. Is he trying to prove that he has influence over her actions? Why _sleep_ with her though? There are plenty of other ways to assert possession without, well, leaving part of him _in _her. _Her eyes overcast and incomprehensible, she returned to harassing the carrots moodily.

Ron, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Pansy was in the hospital wing, receiving treatment for shock and extreme hysteria. Blaise was perched on the window, vacillating between pity and hilarity, switching back and forth alarmingly between peals of laughter and morose silence. That in itself was quite unsettling without adding a stuttering Pansy with frizzy hair and puffy red eyes into the picture. 

"Why?" Pansy whispered, and squeezed the edge of the mattress until her knuckles turned white. "Why her? What does she have that I don't?"

Once again, the painful reel of memories rewound in her head. Eyes wide and unseeing, her mouth slightly open, she cried to the melody of her lost love.

Blaise remembered too. Guilt twisted his face as he stared at that girl, the only girl whose airheaded charms would ever give him butterflies, the only girl he wanted to see day and night, the only girl who refused to love him as he loved her. He recalled the events unfolding; he hadn't meant to make out with her. Draco was his best friend, and Guys over Dykes was an unspoken rule in Slytherin house. He had shattered that tradition; blown it to oblivion with his greed. It was just… once he saw her in that dress gown, looking as dangerous as a viper and at the same time, horribly seductive, he lost it. He couldn't remember who Pansy belonged to and where his priorities lay.

And so, he lost not only the trust of his best friend, but also the trust of the only girl he needed it from.

If he could have taken it back, he would. To him, Pansy's trust was worth more than his own happiness. But now, she was shattered by the inconsideration of that bastard, Malfoy. He had a perfectly good girl in front of him, yet he chose that substandard Gryffindor instead. Blaise slammed a fist into the windsill. And now, when Pansy was in the hospital wing, broken because of Draco, he, Blaise, had to be the one to watch her suffer.

Pansy's wretched sobs died down as she cried herself into an insubstantial sleep.

Blaise leapt off the windowsill and landed nimbly beside Pansy's bed. Gently shaking her fingers loose from where they clawed imprints in the mattress, Blaise tucked the covers around Pansy's shivering frame. He let his fingers rest limply against her cheek, then brushed off a tear frozen on her lashes.

Against his better judgment, he leaned down and swiftly brushed a kiss along her forehead. Then, blushing ferociously, he glanced around the hospital wing to check if anyone was watching, and stole out the door.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was stunned speechless. A red bloom in a shape curiously akin to a hand burst across his cheek and ripened to a purple hue. 

"How COULD you!" Hermione screamed, goading him with an accusing finger aimed at his chest. Draco winced as the pointer hit a particularly sensitive spot and Hermione's fury reached an epitome. It didn't help that they were standing in the middle of a rather crowded hallway either. "You know VERY well that we did NOT have sex and yet I don't see you having ANY objections about people thinking we DID!"

Draco reeled back at the tongue of anger furiously slapping at his conscience. Like expected, the damn girl was overreacting.

"Shut up!" He hissed, trying to get the point across without any of their 'audience' hearing.

"Why?" She hissed back, before breaking into another rage that left him staggering into the wall right behind him.

He had to consider a bit himself before replying, "Because we're supposed to be going out."

It was enough to make her pause. "What?"

Her fury changed momentarily to shock. "Did we used to… do it?"

His mind grinned mischievously. "Er… yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

"YOU BETTER NOT HAVE RAVISHED ME IN MY SLEEP YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Hermione's mood flashed back to aggravation.

Draco considered a bit more. The timing was right, he settled, so why the hell not?

"Answer me… Dra---" Hermione's rage was broken by warm lips on her own. "Wha--?"

Draco's eyes were pressed shut, and his mind was drilling him into not breaking away. _You got yourself into it, dumbass_, His mind taunted him snidely.

Hermione couldn't understand what happened. She was screaming, then she wasn't. She supposed that that was how they normally ended arguments, with Draco forcing his mouth onto hers and her melting into forgiveness.

It felt so wrong.

But his lips were soft and a bit chapped and locked with hers in a kiss that she was sure she had never experienced before. This was the boy that she supposedly dated, which meant that he was the one that she loved. In a twisted way, it made sense.

His mind reeked of desperation, and of need.

Draco thought himself a hell of a good actor.

Hermione pulled away to gasp, and to blush furiously.

Draco smirked, and hooked his fingers through hers. Surprisingly, she didn't object. His manipulation seemed to be working quite well.

Somehow, to Hermione, those calloused fingers in her small hand felt too right.

**

* * *

Okay I hope that was enough drama and fluff and interesting stuff to keep my readers from killing me for not updating.  
I'm sooo sorry! Really I am! I've been putting most of my energy lately into deviantart:  
****www.herxstolenxheart. and www.peach-kiss. so I haven't had time to write. Also, I had an awful writers block. I know the general outline of the story and where its going, but I have no idea how to get there, and I always walk into twists on the way!-tear- onegasai! Please forgive me. Haha**

**So please REVIEW because the purple button motivates me. **

**Thank you to Kristin McNeely, Rilicious, Sarah, Terry Moon, Malfoy-Jacky, hotpinkfreak, CareBearErin, Legit, je m'appelle sarah, pbjsandwich, ilovehp15, Scottishloz, Drakulya, strawberryblueberrykitten, yeah, ilovemitch08, pocahantas, something of nothing wears Radish Earrings, vOnNiiZ, and Darkmistwolf1991 for reviewing! I love you all! x3**


	10. The Betrayal Begins, McGonagall Plots

**AHHHHH I'm horrible! Once again, another half a year has passed T.T.. its cuz the end of the school year and summer has been so busy and all… okay I'll stop making excuses. **

**Ookay sooo…**

**Disclaimer: Characters – JK Rowling. Plot – Me, unless there are points where my plot crosses with Rowling's. **

**So for those of you who forgot what happened last chapter:**

_Hermione couldn't understand what happened. She was screaming, then she wasn't. She supposed that that was how they normally ended arguments, with Draco forcing his mouth onto hers and her melting into forgiveness. _

_It felt so wrong._

_But his lips were soft and a bit chapped and locked with hers in a kiss that she was sure she had never experienced before. This was the boy that she supposedly dated, which meant that he was the one that she loved. In a twisted way, it made sense. _

_His mind reeked of desperation, and of need._

_Draco thought himself a hell of a good actor. _

_Hermione pulled away to gasp, and to blush furiously. _

_Draco smirked, and hooked his fingers through hers. Surprisingly, she didn't object. His manipulation seemed to be working quite well._

_Somehow, to Hermione, those calloused fingers in her small hand felt too right._

**Ookay on with the chappie! **

**:is murdered by bystanders:**

Chapter 10

The crowd dispersed slowly. Person by person, the halls emptied, until only Harry and Ron were left standing in the hall, both lost for words.

"Did you see what I saw?" Ron asked shakily, his skin paler than normal and his eyes abnormally bright.

Harry didn't reply. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he was shaking a bit. His mind seethed and postulated and seethed some more. _Bastard, Bastard, bastard,_ rang in his head.

Ron stared at Harry. Judging by Harry's lack of expression (or rather, his concentration on fury), Harry had not heard Ron at all. "Hey. HEY!" Ron's nails were suddenly digging into Harry's wrist. "What's wrong?"

Still unseeing, Harry wrenched his arm free from Ron and smashed his fist into the wall. The stone emitted a muffled _thud_ as his bones gave way to the force of the blow, and as the sandy edges of the wall scraped the skin off his knuckles, Harry's hand began to bleed. Barely wincing, Harry removed his fist from the bloodstains on the stone, and stalked away towards the Gryffindor common room.

Perplexed, Ron was left halfway to Charms and halfway back to the dormitories. After a slight hesitation and a sigh, Ron trailed Harry back up the stairs.

McGonagall had watched the entire scene from the shadows of the Teachers Lounge. Luckily, dinner was next, and she always had the period before dinner free. This was due to some sort of mishap when a child was attempting to transform a toad to a toadstool, and somehow managed to create a population of tiny, part mushroom, part treacle tart, and part frog mutants. These… creatures… were now living in a hollow pumpkin in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Anyhow, Transfiguration before dinner had become taboo, and that particular period had been canceled indefinitely.

Now, McGonagall was pacing angrily up and down the lounge, dodging and kicking furniture and empty Every Flavor Beans packages with each stride.

"What is that boy thinking?" She muttered angrily. "Dumbledore did not assign him to be Granger's caretaker for him to corrupt her so!" McGonagall stomped on a bag of potato crisps. "And Potter! What an ingrate, to be damaging the body his parents died to keep healthy!" Her ominous mutters subsided.

Bending down to scoop up a card bearing Dumbledore's winking face, McGonagall smiled affectionately at Dumbledore's wizened grin.

"The boys must talk."

Harry wrenched the tapestry covering the hidden door open. Tonight would be no night to stand in his way! Behind him, the tapestry, along with the pole it rested on, clattered noisily to the floor. Harry did not bother to slow down. A house-elf would pick it up, eventually.

Rounding the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry was met with an unpleasant sight. McGonagall stood impatiently in front of the painting, tapping her polished shoes upon the even more polished stone floor. Her hands ruffled the cloak billowing around her shoulders, and the Fat Lady's surprised grimace showed that McGonagall had just arrived.

Reluctantly, Harry halted before the professor, and greeted her.

"I've been waiting for you." McGonagall growled, a terse… well, something, stretching her lips over her teeth.

"What for?" Harry spat acrimoniously. Dumbledore's favorite boy and all, he could get away with an attitude.

"You are cutting class." It was a statement rather than a question, and McGonagall's eyes were unsmiling, as was her mouth.

Harry searched frantically for excuses. Fixing on the most plausible one, he muttered, "Don't feel well, professor."

"Detention, Potter," McGonagall spat, "for skipping class. I'll see you tonight in my office, at eight sharp. Don't you dare be late, or it will be detention for a week. And get that fist of yours bandaged. Understood?"

"Understood." Harry forced himself to say, then walked past McGonagall. The Fat Lady swung open with a sympathetic groan.

As the Fat Lady swung shut, McGonagall turned around. "You know I had to," she addressed the portrait apologetically. "There was no other way."

The Fat Lady sighed. "You know you didn't have to be so harsh to him, Minerva. His feelings were hurt very badly today."

McGonagall shook her head sadly. "You've heard too. Well, there's no taking it back, so we'd better hope for the best."

"I'm sure you're doing the right thing." The Fat Lady smiled comfortingly. McGonagall nodded, a terse nod, and swept from the corridor.

During dinner, all eyes were on Hermione. Everyone was in disbelief. The realization that just days before, Hermione had been a bold-spirited, Slytherin-hating mudblood was rapidly fading. Seated at the center of Slytherin table and surrounded by a slew of underclassmen, Hermione was fastened to Malfoy and chatting animatedly, waving her hands in the air. There was a pause in the conversation and a peal of laughter from the onlookers, and Hermione's face blushed lightly.

The members of every other table recoiled and their eyes widened when Malfoy snaked his arm around Hermione and kissed her on the lips. Hermione's blush deepened to a dark peach.

Something was very, _very_, wrong.

It was like people were already forgetting, Ron realized. They replaced their memories of the old Hermione, the one that belonged on the Good side, with the Queen of Slytherin, Girlfriend-Of-Malfoy. Slowly, people were getting over the fact that Hermione was no longer herself, and that the world, tossed off axis for a brief moment, had righted itself, in a completely wrong manner. But it wasn't right.

Ron had lost his best friend, and Harry had lost the love of his life.

It should have been raining. Maelstroms should have been pulling people, screaming, from their seats at the carefully aligned benches, and sucking them to a watery death. Hell, house-elves should have declared themselves death eaters and stormed the basements in search for the odd radish to punish.

But everything was normal. People were engaging in cheerful conversation every meter or two along the tables, and house-elves had sent up the meal, seemingly more resplendent than usual, in a timely manner.

To everyone else, Hermione was just another girl, devoured by the seductions of Slytherin and Malfoy. But to Ron… God, he couldn't even explain what he felt.

It was like a hole had been ripped somewhere between his heart and his gut, and his bodily fluids were dripping out. Not even that, it was like a part of him had gone missing, and he knew… _knew_ that no matter what he did, he would never be able to find it nor replace it. He felt a hollow, pounding longing, one that he knew was insatiable.

Ron felt the anger and the pain and the frustration welling up behind his eyes. He brought his hand up to rub away the tears before they could come. He would not cry. It was an insult to Harry, because no matter what Ron was feeling, he knew Harry would be feeling a thousand times worse.

Suddenly, the Great Hall hushed itself. Two thousand pairs of eyes followed McGonagall as she strode across the floor, directly aimed at Malfoy and Hermione. Her anger was almost visible, and Ron imagined puffs of smoke curling out of the tip of McGonagall's hat.

McGonagall came to a dead stop in front of Malfoy, who was now ducking behind Hermione as if she were a shield. The whole hall held its breath. Sensing the tension, Hermione spoke, and her voice cut through the silence like a dart and rang clearly throughout the hall. "Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, Miss Granger." McGonagall's eyes left Malfoy for a second to offer a brief crinkle at Hermione. A split second later, they were glaring once again at Malfoy.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Malfoy whispered hoarsely. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong yet, but whatever it was, it looked like it was pretty serious. McGonagall's eyes were like two obsidian coals, at once cold and menacing, and burning with anger.

"Malfoy, I want you to come with me." McGonagall ignored Malfoy's greeting. When he didn't move, she reached over and tugged his robes. "NOW."

Malfoy nearly fell out of his seat scrambling out, and sent a distressful look at Hermione. She smiled reassuringly at him, and shoved him towards McGonagall.

The rest of the hall suddenly felt like they were watching a badly scripted drama.

"Go," she mouthed, "You'll be okay."

Reluctantly, Malfoy staggered after McGonagall.

The whole hall strained to listen to their conversation. Ten seconds later, its wish was granted.

"HOW COULD YOU?" McGonagall screeched.

Malfoy snapped to attention. This was it. In two seconds she would have spoiled everything he'd planned. He flinched slightly as the next shriek pierced his ears.

"HOW COULD YOU SHOW SUCH LEWD DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION? YOU KNOW VERY WELL THAT HOGWARTS IS A SCHOOL OF INTEGRITY AND OF VALUE, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU CORRUPTING OUR IMAGE. WHATEVER YOU DO BEHIND BEDROOM DOORS IS NO BUSINESS OF THE REST OF THE STUDENT POPULATION, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU DISCUSSING IT IN PUBLIC. DETENTION, TONIGHT AT EIGHT IN MY OFFICE, DO YOU HEAR?"

Malfoy was shocked. She not only reacted completely differently from the way he had expected, but she also screamed at him, something she had not done often before. He could only manage a slight incline of the head.

McGonagall turned on her heel and stalked away. Malfoy, still reeling from her explosion, stumbled back to the hall.

Stifling her sniggers in her cloak, McGonagall bunched fabric against her thin lips. God, it felt nice to scream like that.

_Later that Night_

Harry had a problem with being in Detention. Not only was he missing Quidditch practice, he was also going to missing a precious amount of time that could have been spent on planning for Hermione's retrieval. Harry had a _huge _problem with being in Detention. Especially if he was with Malfoy.

At exactly 7:59, Harry arrived outside of McGonagall's office. He had timed his arrival exactly so that he would be nominally early, as who wanted to be _early_ to detention? He'd also made sure he wouldn't be late either, as, judging from her earlier display of anger, McGonagall wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Harry hesitated at the door of McGonagall's office, and after waiting until 7:59:30 and then wondering idly how anyone at Hogwarts knew the time so precisely without a clock or wristwatch, he wrenched open the door and stepped into the office.

Surprisingly, Malfoy was already in the office, leaning sullenly against a desk. McGonagall was nowhere to be seen.

Harry's eyes briefly met Malfoys, and his mind welcomed anger, and then flitted away to other, more important things, like why he knew the time down to the second when there was not a clock in sight. In the back of his mind, he faintly registered that Malfoy was still staring at him.

Malfoy briefly registered Harry's glance, and recognized the malice that lurked behind the emerald eyes as one he saw often, when he looked in the mirror at himself. His gaze lingered on Harry, and then, as if snapping himself out of a reverie, he wrenched his eyes away and shook his head. _Next thing you know, my mind will be telling me I have a crush on _him_ too, _Malfoy thought wryly, then shook his head at the connotations.

The minutes creaked by slowly, each second ticking like a grandfather clock in Harry's head. He wondered if thinking about time did that to everyone, or just him. Idly, he wondered what time it was, and digits popped into his mind. 8:13:32…33… McGonagall was almost 15 minutes late.

Malfoy had hunched himself up by the foot of the wall near the door. Half angry and half bored out of his mind, he wondered, _where the FUCK is McGonagall?_ _She told us to be here on TIME, and she's not even here herself!_ His mind seethed. _Perhaps,_ he thought, _the punishment was to be stuck here, with Potty? _Malfoy considered it. _No way, _he decided, _no teacher would be THAT sadistic._

Harry was getting impatient. It was 8:26:04… 05… 06 already and McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. Out of idle curiosity, he began to look over the portraits on the walls. Most of them were empty, or their contents were sleeping, so they, in general, were boring. Next, he moved on to the shelves mounted neatly in rows. On it were various artifacts and trinkets. Some dollhouse tables imprinted with patterns that made it look as if it had been transfigured from a turtle. Some rabbits that were partially transformed into jars. A tiny aquarium housing a part mushroom, part treacle tart, part toad mutant. Harry squinted at it through his glasses. It looked slightly like a pastry in the shape of a bumpy toad, with extremely bright, warning spots that screamed, "LOOK AT ME, I'M POISONOUS!" Strangely, it reminded Harry of the chocolate frogs that the lady on the Hogwarts Express sold. He wondered whether there was a card with a smiling wizard on it hidden somewhere in the tiny fishbowl. The toad seemed syrupy and slimy, and Harry suddenly had an overwhelming urge to poke it.

"I wouldn't poke it if I were you," Malfoy advised. He had somehow appeared right beside Harry without anyone (that includes the toad) noticing.

Harry glared at the toad and bit his cheek. Since Malfoy told him not to poke the toad, he'd have to poke it. Biting down on his cheek, his hand darted out, plunged into the aquarium, and prodded the little toad/tart/mushroom on its fleshy head.

It exploded.

Harry screamed and launched himself backwards, wrenching his hand from the bowl and knocking it and a few other things from the shelves. Glass shattered and scintillating shards arced across the room, embedding themselves in Harry and Malfoy's arms, the furniture, a fluffy cat, and other random things. Water and something that looked oddly like maple syrup spread slowly across the Persian rug lying on the floor.

"Ow," Harry whimpered, clutching his hand where the knuckles had been bandaged, but a stray blade of glass had stuck itself.

"I told you so…" Malfoy muttered, rubbing his stomach where Harry had jabbed his elbow while screaming and leaping back from the fishbowl.

At exactly 8:34:28, the glass shards disappeared and the tart/toad/mushroom appeared back in its aquarium, seemingly unaware that just seconds ago, it had exploded in an interesting display of gore and lights (the lights from the light reflecting off pieces of flying glass).

"If you didn't tell me, I wouldn't have touched it now, would I?" Harry yelled at Malfoy, half concentrating on bashing Malfoy to a tiny pulp, and half realizing that the wound on his fist was gone.

"What would I have told you fore, if not to get you to NOT TOUCH IT?" Malfoy screamed back.

"What do YOU have to be pissed about? You didn't get your BEST FRIEND taken away today."

"As if you give a shit. I didn't ASK to become Hermione's fucking babysitter."

"I would have GLADLY done it! If you don't want the job, why don't you just give her back to us? So she can be where she BELONGS?"

"How do you know where she belongs? She doesn't belong ANYWHERE as of now. She's a SLYTHERIN, and that's All she knows."

"NOT ANYMORE. AS soon as I get out of here, I'm going to FIND HER, and TELL HER THE TRUTH, like I should have from the beginning." Harry hadn't planned on divulging his covert operation to Malfoy, but it was done, and there was no taking it back.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Don't." He cautioned. "Don't Do it. If you have any feelings about Hermione at ALL, you wouldn't' do it."

"Its not like you could ADVISE me about that. You two are MORTAL ENEMIES. Give me ONE GOOD reason why I shouldn't tell her?" Harry's body was shaking. This bastard who knew NOTHING about Hermione was now acting like she was his world, as if she was nothing to Harry. As if… as if… she had belonged to him, Malfoy, all along.

"It will kill her."

Harry's mouth opened in shock.

"She's very mentally unstable right now," Malfoy explained, "Any slight jolt to what she deems as reality could send her back into unconsciousness, and she would make use of her Shadowstalker abilities with no training whatsoever. I have heard of rare cases where the subject goes insane. So if you have any consciousness to what Hermione is dealing with, do NOT mess with her."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Why should I believe you?"

Malfoy smirked, color returning to his cheeks. "Because you have no choice."

Harry growled, narrowly restraining himself from strangling Malfoy. "Why should I let you do this to her? All you are doing is corrupting her."

Malfoy regained his seriousness. "Believe me, I don't want her. I don't want anything to do with her. All I'm asking for is one week. One week, she'll be back to normal consciousness, and you can have her back. I'll have briefed her on her abilities and how to control them, and she shouldn't be thrown into shock by the change in reality. One week, Potter."

"You better be fucking sure it's one week." Harry clenched his fists. He didn't want to relinquish control to Malfoy, but under the circumstances, he was powerless. "One week, and that's it before I spill it to her."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Malfoy offered the best he could do, a half-grimace that could, in some ways, be misinterpreted as a smile.

The door clicked and both boys swung around. McGonagall swept into the room with a stack of papers under her arm and a satisfied smirk gracing her normally stern features. "Detention is over. Go back to your Dormitories, no side trips."

Harry and Malfoy nodded tersely and headed out their respective ways.

Malfoy's mind was racing. He had promised to relinquish Hermione to the Gryffindors in a week. But a week wasn't enough. It took three years for him to learn how to be a competent Shadowstalker; how could she, only nominally more intelligent than he, learn three year's material within seven days?

Malfoy's mind went blank. He had promised a week, and a week it would be.

But what if Hermione didn't want to return to Potter?

_Then what?_

**Yayyy finished with another chapter! This one took SUCHH a long time to write because I had the most horrible case of writers block.**

**And notice I was kind of insane while writing this. I couldn't stop making stupid jokes… AHH I'm sorry! ( **

**Writing might slow down even more because now that I'm a high school junior, the work load is probably going to triple. ( but whenever I have time, I promise to work on this okay?**

**Thanks to: NorgePrincess Alexandra Noel, Terry Moon, Miss Spazz, Sugar'N'SpiceRin, and Radish Earrings for reviewing. **

**And thanks to: Abyssus abyssum invocat, Alice dra Tasuh Buad, Angelxofxthexnight, BetryedBitch, BloodJewel, Drakulya, HPChic, Hanhepi-Icamna, HauntedImmortal, HermionetheSlytherinPrincess, Inuyashaluva245, Kristen McNeely, Lady Wit, Listona, Malfoy-Jacky, Miss Spazz, NorgePrincess Alexandra Noel, NorthStar2005, Praxidice, Radish Earrings, Rainbow sunchild, Slayer's Angelus, The-Hidden-Me, Twisted Slytherin, Vic92091, Water-Daemon, XxFF-GoddessxX, bellgirl, blaiselover, dragonfly-tiger, hotpinkfreak, ilovehp15, ilovemitch08, jinnykins-31, leftarow, murasaki no sora, princessanndevil4eva31391, sekhet86, winesjunkie, and xKrazYx for faving the story thus far.**

**YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST:throws cookies to everyone:**

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**x3, Princess of daemons**


	11. Pushing her away

**AHH I'm extremely sorry. It's been another seven months. and I've been so swamped by schoolwork I haven't had the chance to update at ALL. I think I'm just going to stop promising to update, and just do it whenever I have a chance. I promise I'll finish this fanfic though… eventually...**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, la de dah de dum.. de dum.**

**Okay recap!: **

_Malfoy's mind was racing. He had promised to relinquish Hermione to the Gryffindors in a week. But a week wasn't enough. It took three years for him to learn how to be a competent Shadowstalker; how could she, only nominally more intelligent than he, learn three year's material within seven days?_

_Malfoy's mind went blank. He had promised a week, and a week it would be._

_But what if Hermione doesn't want to return to Potter?_

_Then what?_

* * *

Chapter 11 

The wood was a dark, rosy grain, and it stretched seven and a half feet above the stone ground on which Hermione was sitting. Her behind ached where it had been pressed into the cold floor, and the wood door frame upon which she was leaning pressed hard grooves into her back. Hermione's quill darted quickly over the parchment draped across her knees, scratching out runes and filling in translations.

A knock shook the door slightly, causing Hermione to jerk involuntarily, and drop her quill. "Come in," she called, quickly gathering her belongings.

The door clicked open and a blonde head stuck itself into the room. "Busy?" Draco Draco asked.

"Just finishing up Arithmancy," Hermione replied, stacking her books and parchments into neat piles on her table.

Draco crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist. His fingers, laced at her stomach, rubbed lazily across the zipper of Hermione's velvet hoodie. Happy surprise jolted into Draco's mind, and in spite of himself, he smiled. Burying his lips into the hood of the jacket, Draco murmured, "Want to get a start on those lessons then?"

Hermione was confused. "Lessons? Lessons for what?" She flinched slightly as she felt a foreign annoyance lick at the edge of her conscience.

Draco groaned silently. _Don't tell me she's forgotten that she is a shadowstalker?_ Slightly annoyed, Draco stepped away from Hermione, then led her to the bed. "Sit down," He ordered, and began to explain.

"Hermione, you are a shadowstalker. Shadowstalkers have traditionally been pure bloods descended from long lines of aristocracy, but once every few decades, a half-blood or mudblood shadowstalker shows up. The concept of shadowstalking is simple: the stadowstalker can, at will, remove his or her spirit from its residence, the body. He or she can then either traverse in an alternate conscience, or jump from body to body, similar to the Dark Lord's previous residence within bodies that were not his own. Although there are many who hold the potential to become Shadowstalkers, a majority of these people do not realize that they have this talent. A majority of the rest, those who can tap into their abilities, are too weak to control their powers, and either are stuck in said alternate conscience forever, or become suspended mid leap between two consciences. The ending result is similar to a dementor's kiss, where the person's body becomes an empty shell."

Draco paused, noticing Hermione's look of skepticism and disbelief. Laughing lightly, he poked her in the ribs. "Don't believe me, eh?"

Hermione, smiling, shook her head no. Draco winked, and laced his fingers with Hermone's. Rubbing his thumb gently across her index finger, he sqeezed Hermione's hand.

Draco's body suddenly went slack, and slumped forward. His head fell forward onto Hermione's bed, and blond hair obscured his suddenly blank eyes. His hand was limp in Hermione's, and the pulsing warmth faded slowly. Hermione leapt up, horrified, and shook Draco's lifeless fingers from her grip. Heart racing, her mouth formed the beginning of a terrified scream.

"Don't scream," a deep voice commanded.

Hermione impulsively shut her mouth. "Who's there?" She called out, eyeing Draco's body and searching desperately for a sign of life.

"You know, your voice is unusually high when you're scared. It's quite amusing." Lightly derisive, the suddenly familiar voice brought a wave of relief that washed away Hermone's terror.

On Hermione's bed, Draco stirred lightly as his muscles jolted themselves awake. His eyes opened, then closed and opened and closed and opened as he blinked blearily. Brushing hair from his eyes, Draco stood up and stretched.

Hermione fumed. "How could you have done that? You scared me to death! Don't you EVER dare do that again without a warning! You little…" Hermione searched in her mind for a proper obscenity, and coming up blank, left her sentence trailing.

Draco laughed, dodging Hermione's accusing jabs. "How I did that is a matter of practice. The process itself is not hard; it's a bit like apparition. You think hard about where you want to go, and then you fill yourself with a seemingly insatiable desire to be there. Then, click your heels together, and there you are. Well… not literally clicking your heels, but you know what I mean. Also, physical contact makes the jump from mind to mind much easier. Y'know how I squeezed your hand? That by itself saved me a lot of pain in the process."

"The thing with Shadowstalking, though, is that, unlike apparition, you can't just aim blindly and hope you don't miss your mark by too far. The consequences of incomplete attention while attempting to transipsysome, which is what we call moving the soul, are much worse than splicing your body. If you ever do practice it, make sure that _nothing_ will disturb you. If you are distracted at all, you may end up splicing your soul."

Draco smiled darkly, and foreboding curled itself around Hermione's thoughts. "Would you like to try?" He asked softly.

Hermione's stomach clenched nervously. _To do or not to do?_ Hermione wondered, her imagination conjuring unpleasant thoughts of floating in oblivion, and the horrible, hollow stare of her own, empty body. Steeling herself at the thoughts, she smiled with a confidence she did not have. "Let's do it."

Pansy knelt by the keyhole of the mahogany door. Blocking out all extraneous noise from her perception, she strained to hear Hermione's conversation with Draco. The last few sentences of Draco's ominous explanation floated through the door. _Splicing your soul_, Pansy mused. It didn't sound particularly pleasant. She smirked, already calculating the dozens of ways she could use her new knowledge to her advantage, and sauntered away.

Gripping Draco's hand with an iron-set determination, Hermione hardened her mind. _Draco's mind_, she thought. Her nails dug into Draco's flesh, tearing small gashes in his palm. Draco made no noise of complaint, and stared in Hermione's eyes, doubting that she could see him. In her eyes he found willpower stronger than any he had ever seen. Her eyes were cold, and drilled into his own. He felt her grip tightening as she prepared for the mental leap. Draco's eyebrows furrowed slightly in worry; although Hermione seemed confident, she had no idea what she was dong. He had seen past her facade and realized the insecurity behind her insistent strength. But sooner or later, it had to happen; the first leap could not be put off. The first leap was unforgettable… it always has been.

_Focus. Focus. Focus. Draco's mind. I want to be there. I MUST be there. Focus._ Hermione's mind reeled in an unending chant. _Focus_. Hermione gagged as she felt the edges of her conscience blur and contract, and the shock waves of constriction hit her like a wall. _Focus._ She forced her mind to remain on her destination. _Draco's mind_. This time, her conscience expanded, stretched until Hermione felt like she would break. Her hand jerked and shook in Draco's. _Focus, dammit_. Hermione felt as if she was insubstantial, stretching to fit into the bigger universe outside her body. Her mind painfully continued expanding, and her body, although not harmed at all, protested weakly. Her limbs were on fire, her skin peeled back, raw and bleeding. Bones snapped and arteries broke, and an icy blade plunged into her stomach, once, twice, three times. A phantom hand wrapped itself around her heart, choking and squeezing until…

All at once, the pain stopped. Hermione's soul was suspended, spinning dizzily, caught in a vortex of color and confusion. Swirls of black and reds and blues and greens throbbed, each wave nudging Hermione's soul gently and sending it slowly in a different direction. Hermione felt a sensation akin to pricking at the back of her neck. Something felt wrong.

And she reeled, as they hit her. Billions of consciences, tearing at her own, each seeming like it wanted to take a piece of her with them. _Take me with you_, they seemed to beg, _save me!_ Hermione tried to wrench her conscience away from the tendrils of souls, but her lack of substance prevented any result. _Focus, focus!_ Her mind cried. _Focus!_ But already, Hermione felt her conscience losing focus, slipping away as it began to relinquish itself to the unrelenting pull of the lost souls.

Through the vortex, a particularly strong tendril reached for her. It bore the resemblance of a knife hurtling through space, and Hermione recoiled as it came plunging towards her. Expecting to feel a blade's sharp edge biting into her skin, Hermione tried to pull away. Instead, the tendril tugged slightly at her conscience, and slightly curious, she merged herself with it.

"Not bad," Draco's voice echoed in the wake of the retreating consciences.

Hermione shuddered. "That was horrible. Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to that?

Draco rolled his eyes, annoyed. Of course Hermione wouldn't understand the power that came with complete control of one's own mind. "Think of it," he said. "You can do anything: take over someone or something, escape your body before it can be dealt mortal damage. Think of all the possibilities, Hermione. Endless power over the weakest part of a mortal being: his soul."

And with a gentle push, Hermione's conscience was extricated from that of Draco's, and she felt the inexplicable pull of her body yearning for its core. With a gentle shudder, her body and spirit melded back together, and Hermione blinked, finding herself crumpled on the floor with Draco collapsed almost completely on top of her. Feeling horrendously sore, she pushed futilely against Draco's body, willing his weight to shift. Giving up, she relaxed her body, and allowed Draco's warmth to seep into her skin.

Draco had woken up seconds before Hermione had, and watched her shudder to life through slitted eyes. Sniggering silently at her attempts to shift him, he feigned sleep and concentrated on the push of Hermione's small, soft hands against his waist. Strangely, he had stopped feeling repulsed. What had once been to him filth, unworthy of even a look, had now become something normal, expected, even comforting. He tried to push the thoughts away, but no matter what he did he just could not extricate himself from the fact that he was beginning… to like her.

Draco sighed silently, the expelling breath causing his body to sink into Hermione's. God, her small body felt so good pressed against his. Relishing the slow rise and fall of her chest against his, Draco gave up his inhibitions, and ran his tongue up the side of her neck, where his own head was comfortably rested.

Hermione's eyes popped open. "Draco!" She yelled, trying to push away from his head. The tip of his tongue left a wet trail on her neck and where skin met skin, chills burnt with a tiny but significant flame. Against her will, Hermione moaned.

Draco took that as a sign to continue. He let his tongue drag up the side of her neck to her ear and propped himself on his elbows. He nibbled the lobe of her ear gently and breathed a gush of warm, then cold air into Hermione's ear, eliciting fresh moans and a slightly painful grip on his waist.

Hermione had no idea what to do. She supposed they'd done this before, considering he was her boyfriend, but as far as Hermione's memory went, she could not dig up a single recollection that gave her any clue how to react. Helpless while pinned under Draco and utterly confused, Hermione gave in and allowed Draco his will.

Draco was getting bored with just playing with Hermione. He had tired of licking and biting her ear, and had moved back to her neck. But he dreaded the idea of kissing her on the lips. He had done it already, but it was a rash decision, made to shut Hermione up from saying anything she shouldn't have. Now, he hesitated. To kiss her properly was to confess to his inner demon that he felt an attraction to this girl, this ordinary, muggle-born girl. At the same time, he longed desperately to feel again the soft warmth of her lips on his, the hesitant hand placed gently on his hip. His tongue traced its own way up her chin, and around the curve of her lips. His tongue flicked the underside of her lip. Then, abruptly, he stopped.

Hermione felt Draco's tongue leaving the edge of lip, and the gush of cold air that indicated a sharp intake of breath. She was instantly alert, and worried. Draco's thoughts betrayed no emotion; it was as if a stone wall had come between the two consciences. "What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice soft, smooth, slightly hoarse from gasping her lust into Draco's shoulder.

Draco started to shake. Swinging his head from side to side, he looked at Hermione through pleading eyes, willing her to understand. Of course she wouldn't. She didn't know. She couldn't recall the hatred, the spite; she was not reliving six years of undeniable antagonism within a single second. Draco knew he was being unfair, but he felt as if he had no other choice. He shook the last doubts from his mind, and muttered, "I can't," a slight tremor in his voice betraying confusion and nerviousness. "I can't," he repeated to Hermione's confused look, then lifted himself off the floor and walked out the door, forcing himself not to look back.

* * *

**YAYYY DONEE!! THAT TOOK SO LONGG!!!!**

**Okay so I hope you guys like it… and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW PLEASEEEE!!! **

**yes, i thrive on the fluffy goodness of reviews. :smiles sappily:  
**

**x3  
Princess of daemons  
**


	12. Nightmare Alive

LOL another 5 month hiatus.. Junior year has just been so freaking busy! But since HP7 has just come out, and I finished it yesterday, then spent all of today reading fanfic, I'm hyped up for some writing. :D hopefully this chapter is extra good!

Raising Draconis 

A blonde haired, 8 year old boy rushed out of the manor's back doors into a sunlight flooded expand of lush, flowering field. Laughing and exhilarated, he tripped and tumbled towards the bank of a crystal lake, its slight waves refracting the light and looking as if a handful of diamonds had been scattered over the water.

"Wait for me, Draco, wait!" A frail looking girl raced after him, her pigtails trailing in her wake. She ran gracefully, albeit significantly slower than the agile boy. Her long, flowing skirt blossomed around her as she ran, giving her the illusion of flying over the grass.

Her name was Ashley Rivaldi, and she was a girl from the village near by. A muggleborn. Her parents were the local innkeepers, and as the village was in a rather remote place, her family did not have much money. They lived in relative poverty, struggling to keep themselves afloat in a dying town. Ashley's parents tried to provide the best they could for Ashley, the youngest child of three. They gave the best of everything to her, raising her high above their heads to save her from drowning in the flood. She was a fragile child, small for her age. She had slightly wide set, emerald colored eyes framed by luscious lashes, and small, heart shaped lips. Her cheeks were flushed with joy, especially when she was with her favorite playmate. Her arms and legs were long by proportion, her childlike innocence magnified by the thinness of her waist. She looked as if she could be snapped in half by a careless blunder. Yet her personality was strong and fiery, and her willpower shone through her facade of weakness.

That was what attracted Draco to her.

Draco knew well how his family felt towards muggleborns, but he did not care. He was not like them. Ashley's endless bravery and wit drew him to her, and though he was too young to understand love, he felt for her an indescribable affection, stronger than most childhood relationships.

Although his father had banned him from playing with Ashley, Draco still sought her out and invited her for hours of frolicking while his parents were away. Being a child, he did not understand the malice of his muggle hating parents, and so, despite his better judgment, he continued to associate with her.

The skirt was slightly too long for her, a hand-me-down from her older sister. She tripped on its hem, and there was a sickening crack.

The girl cried out, her forehead colliding with the ground, her arms crushed below her. "Ashley!" Draco cried out, sprinting back from where he had been, far ahead. She had pushed herself slowly into fetal position, clutching her ankle, tears streaming down her delicate face.

Sensing Ashley's pain and fear, Draco began whimpering as well. "What's wrong, Ash?"

The pain bit into her, rendering her unable to speak. Draco shook her gently. "Tell me what's wrong!"

" I think my ankle is broken," she whispered, her tears sliding down onto her leg and onto her bloody, scraped knee.

"You're all banged up," Draco said, wiping a small finger over Ashley's cheeks, smearing dirt onto her face and tears off it. Ashley gave him a small, watery smile.

"What are we gonna do? My daddie can't know you're here, but I have to bring you to him so he can fix you!" Draco moaned.

"Fix… me?" Ashley asked, confused. _Draco never told her his father was a doctor_, she thought.

"You'll see!" Draco hoped that his father would be kind to Ashley because of her injury.

"How are we gonna get me there. Mr. Smartie pants?"

Draco smile mischievously. "You stay like that. I'll roll you." Snickering, he reached over, pretending to push her.

"Ow!" Shrieked Ashley, as Draco's misaimed push caused him to fall onto her. "My ankle! My ankle!"

Draco paled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it, I swear. Stay right here," He climbed awkwardly to his feet, "I'll go get him. He should be back from work now!"

Then, he was off, tripping and tumbling towards the manor, screaming "DADDY" at the top of his lungs.

Lucius Malfoy hated being disturbed after a long day's work. He had just stretched out on the ebony and dark green velvet couch when Draco ran in, screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs. "Daddy, daddy come quick!"

"Draco! Come say hi to your dad!" Lucius rose graciously from the couch, arms spread open and ignoring his son's plea. If Draco could run and scream at the same time, then there was nothing wrong with him, and Draco's health was all that mattered.

"It's…" Draco's voice caught; he was on the verge of tears, yet he did not know if his father would help.

"Yes, son?" Lucius was slightly impatient.

"Ashley." Draco whispered, almost shamefully, fearful of his father's reaction. The anxiety and terror that had caused him to propel himself towards the one person _least _likely to help was almost entirely gone. "She broke her ankle."

"I… see."

"You'll come help her, won't you, daddy?" Draco tugged pathetically at the sleeve of his father's robe, tears and snot running down his cheeks.

Lucius's eyes were dark and furious. He had explicitly instructed his son not to play with the mudblood, and here he was, seduced by her to break the laws Lucius had set! She would pay for ensnaring his son. Rearranging his face to look fatherly and concerned, he replied, "of course, son."

Draco was slightly astonished at how quickly his father had agreed. He had cowered in front of Father, expecting him to lash out angrily for Draco's disobedience. Smiling now as he ran, Draco thought happily, _maybe father will come to like Ashley, so we don't have to be sneaky-snake all the time! _Although he was still worried and frightened, the prospect of not having to hide from his parents all the time comforted him, and cheered him.

Draco led his father to the patch of grass where Ashley sat, trembling from pain and moaning softly to herself. She clutched her ankle, as if her grip could bind her bones back together. Hearing footsteps, she raised her head hopefully.

"Hello, Ashley." Lucius used a warm tone of voice, but his dark, hatred filled eyes stabbed into her like icicles.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy," Ashley whispered, her head lowered to avoid looking into his eyes.

"Why are you so afraid of me? I'm nothing to be afraid of. Just a father, trying to help his sons, and his son's friends." Lucius took out his wand slowly. "I'm going to patch you right up, okay? Afterwards, you won't feel anything."

The way he said the last few words sent a spasm of fear through both Draco and Ashley. They looked up to find Lucius still smiling, a sickeningly sweet grimace that betrayed the murder in his eyes.

"Daddy, don't do it!" Draco cried, "Don't! She's my friend!" Sobbing openly now, he clung to his father's wand arm, hoping his weak little arms had the power to pull his father's down.

"I'll teach you not to befriend filthy little mudbloods!" Lucius snarled, flinging his son away. Draco stumbled back, holding his cheek, where his father's arm had inadvertently hit him. A growing rage bubbled in his chest.

"I'll teach you to seduce my son!" Lucius screamed, furious. "Crucio!"

Ashley screamed, an excruciating howl, her body twisting and contorting. "Stop it!! You're hurting me!" She cried out, her face pale from the pain of daggers piercing her skin, of her bones being torn apart, over and over and over.

"STOP IT!" Draco yelled, hitting his father with his small fists. _I'm powerless against him. I can't make him stop. He's going to kill her. And it's all my fault._

Ashley's screaming subsided to a pathetic whimpering. She lay flat on the ground, a circle of flattened flowers where her thrashing landed, the crushed daisies forming a halo around her heaving, broken form. She coughed up blood, little speckles of red that dotted her starkly white face and soiled her dress.

"Please daddy…" Draco moaned, knowing it was futile.

"This is the lesson you get, Draco, for disobeying your father." Lucius glowered at his son. Draco cowered under his father's menacing stare, knowing what his father would do, and that his father would relish it.

"_Avada Kedavra." _Lucius screamed it joyfully, watched in exhilaration as a blinding beam of green soared out of his wand and struck Ashley squarely in the chest. Her body skidded back in the gravel, the thin skin on her back torn by the small stones in the grass. A trail of blood marked the path from where she sat, huddled, to where she lay now, limp.

Draco's mind numbed and he could think of nothing but the blank, lifeless stare Ashley was giving him, and three words, echoing over and over. _All my fault… it was all my fault… Ashley is dead. It's all my fault._ His mind was in disarray and he could no longer put the pieces together. The images revolved over and over in his head and an overwhelming urge to scream overcame him. He tried to straighten himself, to leave her behind, but in his confusion he could think of nothing but her eyes, stretching farther and farther until her face ripped and she exploded into blood.

He crumpled into a heap, screaming. It was a wordless roar that drowned out all else, carrying on and on and on. He clutched his head, willing the images to stop, praying for everything to just stop. His voice carried on the anguished cry.

Lucius stood up coldly, watching his son writhing at his feet. "I warned you already to keep away from filth, Draco. This is what happens when you do not listen. Ashley's death was not my fault; it was yours."

He stepped over Draco to Ashley and glared disdainfully down at her. "Back in the dirt, Mudblood, where you belong." Squatting down, he took two long, white fingers and took a pinch of dirt from the ground. Then, slowly, he rubbed the grime across Ashley's chin, where a trail of blood dripped to her slender throat. "Good riddance," Lucius muttered, and kicked Ashley's unrelenting body. She was lifted, suspended in the air, and then fell to the ground a few feet away with a muffled crack. She had landed face down and her nose was broken, now gushing blood into the dirt, turning the ground around her into a muddy puddle.

Lucius strode away, wiping the unpleasant image behind him from his mind. One more useless life, granted purpose for one second, for the education of young Draco. Lucius smirked. Draco will never love again.

Behind him, Ashley laid, defiled, her blood leaking into the earth, giving life back from where she took it. A daughter of innkeepers who borrowed their lives from the renting of land, she was the price they paid back to the earth. Lucius Malfoy had ensured that. Her mouth opened slightly, a tiny dribble of saliva mingling with the blood on her cheek. This was the portrait of the dying, wasted heroine. The forgotten, common hero martyred for another's pleasure, another's greed.

Inches away, Draco laid, curled, his screams echoing across the ground, his anguish flooding the place where anguish was suppressed. The son of aristocrats who borrowed their lives from the common person, he was the Frankenstein of their creations. Lucius Malfoy had ensured that. His eyes were wet, his tears mingling with Ashley's blood, his tortured wails promising her he was sorry, he loved her, he would have gladly died in her place. But he did not understand. This was the portrait of the tragic, tortured villain. The misunderstood, hated prince blamed for another's evil, another's cruelty.

They laid, almost curled around one another. Pure hearted children contaminated by the scum of the earth, those haughty purebloods who believed themselves worthy to play God.

The images in Draco's head repeated themselves, playing and replaying, mockingly, in front of Draco's eyes. Then, Ashley's face distended, her lifeless pupils distorted until suddenly, he was looking into the face of a dead Hermione, and it was Hermione's face that ripped and Hermione's body that exploded into blood and Hermione's corpse he was crying over.

The screams went on.

"Draco! Wake up!" A rough hand shook him. "Stop screaming, goddamit! DRACO!" He startled awake and the scream, _his_ scream died on his lips. He was looking up into Hermione's furious eyes.

"You," he said dully.

"Yes, me, you prat. You woke up the entire house!" Hermione stormed.

"Sorry."

"I don't care about your sorries." Softer, she added, "I want to know why you won't let me into your thoughts anymore, Draco."

His eyes widened slightly. She wouldn't know. She'd never understand what it was like, sitting by and watching your best friend die, knowing it was you who caused it. Worst of all, if she did know, there would come a day where she won't care. And Malfoy could not stand any girl knowing that he had loved, that he was vulnerable.

Pushing Hermione's hands aside, he threw his robes over him and stalked out of the dungeons, ignoring Hermione's anxious calls.

Wow that took me nearly three hours to write. O.O;

HOW WAS HP7 EVERYONE??? I loved it a LOT! It took me forever to read (about six hours) but it was WORTH it! Every second of my time was well spent on this book, and I loved going to bed scared and exhilarated from the plot twists. How did you all like it?

And- I'm sorry I've been on hiatus for so long! I repeat my promise: no matter how long it takes or how busy I am, I'm going to finish this story. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me from the beginning, and a warm welcome to anyone who has just joined in. Thank you so much for reading! It means a lot to me.

**I hope you will review, as well, as it helps me a lot to get any constructive criticism, or just tell me what they liked or didn't like. Thank you! XD**

**See you next time x3**


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